Candace McCarthy (3 page)

Had Joanna guessed who he was? Her expression as she studied him suggested that she had for she had gazed at him with barely concealed hostility. He should not have been affected by it, but he realized with some dismay that he was.

Autumn Wind was as beautiful as he remembered. More so, in fact. But he must be immune to her beauty now. Maturity and distance had taught him to dismiss his feelings of admiration for her. He was no longer a child; he was a warrior. And he was the man expected to marry Moon Dove, a lovely village maiden.

He knew Joanna had chosen to return because of Wild Squirrel, but he had no intention of remembering what she had once been to him . . . nor would he allow his thoughts to linger on the woman she’d become.

 

 

“You’ll stay with us, of course,” said Mary.

After a short visit with Wild Squirrel, who did not awaken while Joanna was there the cousins left the dark interior of the
sachem’
s wigwam for the warmth of the summer sunshine outside. Mary made an effort to be friendly, but Joanna had difficulty responding in kind. The knowledge that Mary had been the one to send her away still hurt Joanna deeply. She wanted to ask Mary why, but she wasn’t ready to hear the painful truth.

Now, as they stood within Mary’s wigwam, Joanna wondered how she could share her cousin’s lodge while feeling resentment. But to argue against Mary’s generosity seemed churlish and rude. So Joanna made an effort to smile as Mary told her of the sleeping arrangements.

Joanna then recalled her servants and realized that Cara and Harry were the perfect excuse to stay elsewhere within the village. Before she had a chance to mention them, a light breeze created by the lifting and closing of the deer flap drew her attention to the door. Rising Bird, Mary’s husband, had entered and stood by the door with a grin.

“It has been many summers since I have seen my Autumn Wind,” Mary’s husband said.

Joanna couldn’t contain her joy. “You have not changed much, Rising Bird.” She smiled at him as he approached. “It is good to see you, my father.”

The warrior looked as magnificent and handsome as her young girl’s memory had pictured him. He appeared pleased by her endearment. He had the kindest eyes, she thought. Those gentle dark eyes of his glistened with emotion as he studied her. A lump rose to Joanna’s throat as her eyes filled with tears.

“You are a woman now,” he said, his voice sad.

“Yet,” she answered, “you recognized me.”

“I will always know the young girl who came to us with sadness in her eyes but with great love in her heart.” He looked at his wife who remained silent during the exchange. “She has come home to us, Mary.”

“I hope she will stay,” Mary said sincerely.

The conversation made Joanna uncomfortable. She had come only for a visit. Her life and her inheritance were in England. In a few short weeks, she would return there with only the memory of this visit in her heart. Unwilling to discuss the length of her stay, Joanna told Mary about her servants.

“And so you see,” Joanna continued, “it would be wonderful if there were a lodge available for us to stay together.”

“There is room in Red Dress’s wigwam,” Rising Bird said. “She has gone to visit her sister in the north.”

Mary looked upset by the switch in Joanna’s accommodations. “Cannot your friends stay in Red Dress’s lodge alone?”

“Cara and Harry have never been to an Indian village before,” Joanna said. “Cara is understandably nervous. Harry, although more confident, will be unable to calm the girl’s fears.” She looked to Rising Bird for understanding.

The brave nodded. “I see how much you wish to visit with Autumn Wind,” he said to his wife, “but Joanna knows best. You will have time enough to spend with our little girl.”

Rising Bird convinced Mary as no one else could. He smiled at both women before leaving the wigwam to see about Red Dress’s lodge.

A smile lingered on Joanna’s lips after Rising Bird had left. She had loved the brave like a father when she had lived here before. Now, as a woman, she could appreciate even more the warmth, affection, and friendship of such a kind warrior.

“Are you hungry?” Mary asked, trying to mask her disappointment with a smile.

Joanna turned to her cousin. “I’m famished. Can I help with the meal?”

Mary’s expression lit up with pleasure, and Joanna realized the direction of her cousin’s thoughts. For a brief moment, the two women smiled at each other as they recalled an earlier time when Joanna had begged Mary to teach her how to prepare hominy . . . and the young girl’s first attempt at preparing the dish.

Joanna made an effort to put aside her resentment toward Mary for the first evening of her brief return visit to Lenape life.

“This is where we’ll be staying?” Cara appeared upset. “It’s nothing more than a primitive hut!”

“Actually, Cara,” Harry replied, “I imagine we’ll be quite happy here.”

“I’ve slept on a Lenape sleeping pallet.” Joanna wandered about the wigwam, noting things that seemed familiar to her. “I’ve found it comfortable.”

There were different structures that served as lodges or wigwams within the village. Some were long rectangular buildings with curved roofs. Intermingled with these larger wigwams were dome-shaped huts with just enough room for a single person or small family. All were made from sticks and birch-bark. Joanna and her servants had been given one of the small huts. Studying its interior, Joanna felt the wigwam would do nicely.

The wigwam held many provisions, no doubt left by Red Dress, the absent matron who owned the lodge. Dried corn known as
Xus’kwim
with its husks braided to form clusters hung from the roof rafters. Sacks of grain. dried beans, and dried berries lay against one wall near Lenape-fashioned pots, dishes, and cooking utensils. There was also dried meat. Joanna recognized a cloth bag as a container for bear grease, an ointment used by the Indians for many purposes. She saw an axe with a stone head and a birch-bark box filled with tree-sugar. The sleeping pallets were rush mats on the dirt floor, covered with deer skins and beaver pelts.

Joanna glanced at her servants and frowned. Back in England, it would be shocking for two unmarried women to share a room with an unattached man. She felt that the unusual circumstance of staying in an Indian village in the Pennsylvania wilderness was enough of an exception to forget society’s standards.

Besides,
she thought,
who else other, than the Indians and us will know or care?

“Harry, perhaps it is unseemly for you to share our wigwam,” Joanna said, “but under the circumstances, I feel it would be best for Cara and me that you remain here.” Her gaze went to her maid. “Is that all right with you; Cara?” She smiled at her servants. “You mustn’t think that I feel we are unsafe here. The Lenape are a peaceful people. They will not harm you. But I think that you will both feel more at ease in a wigwam of our own.”

The young woman nodded, looking relieved. “How long will we stay?”

Joanna became thoughtful. “A month . . . a few weeks at least.”

“A month!” Cara breathed. She looked horrified. “Whatever you wish,” she whispered uneasily.

“Life here isn’t so terrible,” Joanna told her. “Given time, you’ll enjoy it, I think.”

“If you say so, Miss.” Cara appeared unconvinced.

 

 

Later that evening, Joanna once again headed toward Wild Squirrel’s wigwam. As she walked across the village yard, she fervently prayed that the brave Fireheart would be nowhere in sight. The warrior’s behavior toward her earlier had upset her. Why had the man been so hostile to her?

She didn’t know him, and he certainly didn’t know her! The memory of his glaring dark gaze made her shiver. She didn’t deserve such treatment! She had come to see Wild Squirrel because she was concerned for the
sachem
’s well-being. What right did Fireheart have to forbid her to see him?

Mary did not have to translate her conversation with Fireheart for Joanna to understand what had been said. Fireheart’s expression and gestures had spoken volumes.

Joanna paused outside the
sachem’s
wigwam before entering. Drawing a deep breath, she firmed her resolve to visit Wild Squirrel, despite the possibility of Fireheart’s presence.

The fire in the center pit had been stoked to a hearty flame. Joanna looked quickly about the wigwam, relieved to see no sign of Fireheart. Her gaze went to Wild Squirrel on his sleeping platform. Beside him, Raven Wing stood with his head bowed as he chanted a prayer to the rhythm of his turtle-shell rattle. As Joanna moved farther into the wigwam, the shaman, sensing her presence, stopped chanting to identify the visitor.

Lowering his rattle, Raven Wing turned and approached. Joanna made an effort to smile at him. The shaman paused within three feet, his dark eyes narrowing as he studied her.

As she waited for some sign that the shaman remembered her, Joanna searched her memory for the proper greeting. As the words continued to elude her, she watched as Raven Wing’s expression changed.

“Autumn Wind?” The shaman grinned when she nodded. “You have been gone a long time, my daughter.”

Joanna returned his grin. “You know me, Raven Wing.”

“You look the same yet brighter, like the moon on a clear night.” Raven Wing’s English was excellent.

“You are the only one besides Mary and Rising Bird who recognized me,” Joanna said.

“My people said good-bye to a little girl. They did not expect to see that child become a woman.” Raven Wing smiled at her with affection as he gestured toward Wild Squirrel’s bed. “He would want to know that you have come to see him.”

“Will he get well?” Joanna asked.

The shaman’s expression sobered. “He is not fighting the sickness as he should. I do not know what else to do.”

“May I speak to him?” Joanna’s voice was soft.

Raven Wing studied the man on the bed. “Perhaps he will recognize your voice and awaken.” He gave her a smile of encouragement. “Speak to our
Sahkeé-mah.
See if he will listen. Do not be afraid.”

Despite the shaman’s encouraging words, Joanna felt her heart flutter nervously as she moved closer to address Wild Squirrel.

She felt her stomach burn as she studied him. He looked even frailer than he had earlier. His skin, usually dark, appeared pale and translucent. His high cheekbones, which had once given him a look of authority and power, seemed too prominent in his thin drawn features. The sharp angles of his face, which gave him character when he was healthy, now added to his appearance as an ill man.

“Grandfather,” Joanna whispered in Lenape. Her knowledge of the language was coming back to her. “I have come from far away to see you. Won’t you please wake up and talk to me?”

Wild Squirrel seemed oblivious to Joanna’s presence, but the young woman was unwilling to give up. She touched his cheek with light fingertips.

“Wake up, Grandfather! It is Autumn Wind. Do you remember me? You used to tell me stories when I visited your wigwam with my friend Little Blossom.”

But Wild Squirrel lay without responding. Joanna attempted to wake him for several minutes before she decided to try again tomorrow. When the shaman learned of Joanna’s intent to return the next day, Raven Wing smiled his approval.

 

 

He stood out in the yard and watched the woman leave the
sachem’s
wigwam. Fireheart scowled. Why did she have to come back? He had put her out of his mind and his heart. Why did she have to return to taunt him?

He couldn’t deny that she looked lovely although there was something much changed about her. She seemed subdued. Where had the wild-spirited girl gone?

His memory was of a bare-breasted girl walking across the compound, teasing the boys with her smile. She hadn’t noticed him, it was true, but he had adored her anyway.

Now Joanna wore an English gown of soft blue with a scooped neckline and large sleeves that billowed, trimmed with fabric just below her elbows. She was covered primly from the neck to her wrists down past her ankles, but the dress also outlined her breasts and small waist.

Fireheart found himself wondering what lay beneath the blue fabric. He scowled as he recalled how earlier he’d noticed the way the gown had outlined her womanly curves, and how the firelight in Wild Squirrel’s wigwam had brightened the red-gold in her blonde hair.

She paused in mid-stride as she saw him. They stared at each other for several long seconds before she dismissed him to continue on toward her wigwam

He should not be thinking of her, he thought. He was to marry Moon Dove. She would make him a good wife while Joanna never bothered to look his way before now.

We were children,
he thought. And now they were not.

It was dusk. Fireheart watched as Joanna disappeared inside her wigwam. With a frown, he turned away and tried to force her from his mind.

 

 

Joanna wandered about the village the next morning, searching for familiar faces. Her servants were still asleep. They’d had a difficult time on their first night in the village. Unfounded fear, she was sure, was the reason for their sleeplessness as Joanna herself had slept quite cozily on her fur pelts. For propriety’s sake, she had erected an animal-skin curtain to separate the women’s quarters from Harry’s, a simple arrangement that would be taken down during the day. Despite her servants’ difficult first night, Joanna was sure that Cara and Harry would adjust after a few days in the encampment.

A young mother came out of one of the larger wigwams followed closely by a naked boy and girl. Joanna wasn’t shocked by the children’s lack of clothing. It wasn’t unusual to see youngsters at an early age without garments. The Lenape saw nothing indecent or wrong about it, and Joanna, smiling at the grinning brother and sister, had to agree.

The threesome headed toward her, venturing onto a path that led out of the village, probably toward a lake or pond, Joanna surmised. The young woman nodded as she passed by her, then, with a word of scolding to hurry her children, she continued on her way.

The thought of refreshing cool water tempted Joanna on this warm morning, and she fell into step behind the mother and her offspring.

The path narrowed, then widened as it reached a glistening lake. Joanna stopped to appreciate the natural beauty. When she’d been a child and lived among the Lenape, she had bathed in lakes and streams—not this one perhaps, but ones like it.

The mother and children were not the first at the waterside. A group of women were already there, but a short distance farther along the shore. They chatted and giggled as they washed and swam naked.

Joanna longed to take off all of her clothes and join them, but she was too self-conscious of her English white skin and undergarments. She was no longer the child who had bathed with the Lenape. She was a woman with a different form, and she was pale where these women were golden-brown. She had no desire to draw attention to her naked body.

She saw a boulder near the water’s edge, away from where the Indian women cavorted. Moving toward the natural seat, Joanna decided to remove her shoes and stockings and be content with getting her feet wet.

Some of the matrons regarded Joanna curiously as she sat and dipped her bare feet in the cool water. Joanna smiled at them, then tried not to stare at the scene made by the naked women. She turned her gaze instead to a view of the lake and the land that she could just make out on the other side.

After a while, she turned her attention from the view to search for small pebbles to cast into the lake. She found a few and cupped them in her palm. She tossed first one tiny rock, then another into the water, enjoying the different sizes and shapes of the ripples made by the splash.

She became so engrossed in her actions and their effect on the lake that she sensed someone’s presence only when it was within a few feet.

Joanna looked bark and saw a woman She frowned for something about the Indian maiden looked familiar. The girl smiled, and Joanna felt a shock of surprised pleasure. “Little Blossom?”

Little Blossom nodded. “Autumn Wind,” she said with a smile. “It is good to see you again.” She spoke slowly as if she realized that it had been a long while since her friend had spoken Lenape.

Pleased to have understood, Joanna rose and gave her old friend a hug. It had been seven years since she’d seen Little Blossom, but the memories of their friendship came back to her sharply, moments of joy from a distant past.

“You have been too long in returning home,” her friend said as the two young women released each other.

“I wasn’t sure I’d be welcome,” Joanna said.

Little Blossom raised her eyebrows. “You doubt you are a daughter of the Lenape?”

“It’s been so long,” Joanna whispered. “I’m not the same person as when I left.”

“You are my friend,” the Indian maiden said, gazing at her with concern. “That will never change.”

Her words made Joanna smile. “It is good to see you, Little Blossom. How is She with a Smile?” she asked, recalling the sweet disposition of her friend’s mother.

Sadness dulled Little Blossom’s beautiful dark eyes. “She is no longer with us.”

Joanna drew a sharp breath. “I am sorry,” she said. The Lenape did not speak of their dead, and she was afraid she had offended her childhood friend.

“I have a daughter,” Little Blossom told her. The mention of her child brightened her gaze.

“A daughter?” Joanna stared at her friend in stunned amazement. Little Blossom had a child! “You are married then?”

Little Blossom chuckled. “To Broken Bow. That is how I had mv daughter, this is true.” She patted her bare belly. “Soon there will be a son or daughter to join my Water Flower.”

Joanna smiled with genuine pleasure. She suddenly recalled the brave Broken Bow. He had been a handsome warrior. She was glad Little Blossom had found happiness with him. “I am pleased for you.”

“Wa-neé-shih,”
her friend said, thanking her. Little Blossom glanced toward the group of women enjoying bathtime together. “Why do you not join the matrons?”

Joanna followed her gaze. “I don’t know anyone . . . it’s been a long time.”

Little Blossom frowned. “You know many,” she told her. “Come.” She held out her hand. “I will tell you about each matron, each maiden.”

Feeling self-conscious in her cambric gown, Joanna placed her hand in her friend’s.

The two women approached the group enjoying their daily bath. Soon, Joanna was undressing to join them.