His Defiant Wife, the Adventures of Linnett Wainwright, Book 2 (12 page)

“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
Linnett spent two days at the Lammers’ farm. Starved as they had
been of company over the winter months, it was balm for them all to
talk and laugh again, both couples enjoying the close friendship
that had developed between them in the early fall. They stayed two
days at the farm but too soon the time came for Linnett and John to
return to their cabin. They had the maps and guidance for the long
journey to Boston packed away with their belongings.

A deep sadness
prevailed upon them all, knowing they might not have the chance to
meet again.

“When you leave
for Boston, just set the cows free to roam. They will wander down
and find the rest of the herd,” Hans instructed. They were taking
two cows back with them this time because Hans felt that two cows
released into the wild would have a better chance of finding the
herd. Linnett and John each had a cow tethered to their horse for
their journey to the cabin; it would be a slow return, matching
their speed to that of the cows.

Finally, all
was packed onto the horses and they made 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?” Linnett 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 the way to Boston.

Linnett hugged
Peter to her and kissed his fair head. “You look after your mother
now, Peter, and perhaps you can visit us in Boston.”

Peter’s eyes
shone “
Can I, mother
?!”

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

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

They broke the
journey back well over half way. Sarah had packed them the usual
generous supply of food, and they lunched well on fresh baked
bread, cheese and cold chicken. “John, I long to gallop a little,
the ground is much softer now and there is hardly any snow about.
May I please ride ahead a little way and leave both cows with you?
I could light the fire and start boiling water if I arrive back
before you,” Linnett said and looked pleadingly at her husband.

John hesitated.
He hated Linnett roaming off on her own. Ever since he had come
across her with Ned, he feared for her safety.

“I don’t know,
Linnett, it’s not safe like England.”

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

Linnett knelt
in front of John and grasped his hands raining kisses on them. John
pulled his hands away laughing. “Enough! Enough!... Oh, very well
then!”

“Thank you,
John!” Linnett cried.

“Wait and let
me finish! Only on the condition that you keep within my sight,”
John told her sternly.

Linnett’s face
fell. “But that’s not fair, John, that is so unnecessary!”

“Nevertheless
those are my terms, you can take them or leave them; either that,
or you ride with me and the cows.”

Linnett scowled
at him. “Since I appear to have no choice, I agree.”

John nodded,
pleased. He grinned at his wife’s cross face. “
Oh and
Linnett darlin’
?”

“Yes?”

“Disappear from
my sight for more than five minutes, and you’ll not be able to sit
for a week!” John told her pleasantly as he mounted his horse.
Linnett stuck out her tongue playfully as she turned Amber and rode
off with a flourish. John watched indulgently as she rode away.

Linnett kept
her word, returning to the horizon to wave at John every time she
rode out of sight. Finally, when she realised she was almost at the
cabin, she cantered ahead, intending to go in and relight the
fire.

As she rounded
the crest of the hill, she noticed a black plume of smoke rising
over the trees. The smoke seemed to be coming from the direction of
their cabin. Linnett kicked Amber into a canter and then into a
gallop. She rode hard until the cabin came into sight. Flames
poured out of the windows and curled up over the roof. Shocked,
Linnett slowed Amber to a walk and stared incredulously at her
home.

Had they left
the fire in? Surely the embers were all put out but obviously not!
With a cry of dismay, she kicked Amber and cantered up to the front
of the cabin. Linnett jumped from the horse and ran forward towards
the entrance.

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.

He was a huge
man, at least six feet four. He was bare chested despite the cold,
and his face and body were painted red and black. His dark eyes
bore into Linnett’s when he spoke, his voice deep and guttural. “Mi
he wi.”

Linnett shook
her head to show that she could not understand him and then tried
to pull her arms free of his grip. The man tightened his hold on
her, swinging her up into his arms. Linnett punched his shoulders
and screamed, absolutely terrified. Where was John? She craned her
neck, looking around to see if he was about. It was then that
Linnett noticed four or five other Indians sat quietly on horses to
the left of the cabin at the edge of the trees.

The large
Indian walked over towards them and threw the screaming Linnett up
over his horse so that she lay face down across the horse’s
shoulders. He then swiftly mounted behind her, his arm resting
solidly on Linnett’s back. Shocked and horrified, Linnett struggled
and kicked as the horses and their riders turned and melted quietly
into the trees.

They travelled
onwards for an hour or more before coming to a halt in dense
forest. Linnett had ceased her struggles after the native man had
wound his hand in her hair and yanked hard each time she moved. All
she could think of was that John would be so worried.

He would be
afraid for her, or perhaps he might think that she had perished in
the fire and he might not come searching for her. Then Linnett
remembered that she had not unlocked the cabin door. If the door
was still intact and not burned by the time John reached the cabin,
surely he would at least realise that she was not inside.

Linnett was
spilled unceremoniously to the ground and lay winded in a tousled
heap. Once she had managed to get her breath back, she sat up and
scraped the leaf debris from her hair. The native Indians were
hunkered down the other side of the horses, their guttural voices
murmured in conversation. Stealthily Linnett got to her feet and
edged away from the horses, creeping into the dark thicket of
trees. When she was sure that she was well screened by undergrowth,
she fled as fast as she could manage, running through sharp
branches that whipped her face and scratching brambles that caught
at her skin and clothes alike.

She recalled
running from Nat and wondered why she could hear no pursuit.
Perhaps the natives thought they would be better off without her,
and with this idea in mind, Linnett slowed her pace and eventually
came to a halt.

She stood
doubled over, gasping, attempting to catch her breath, and she
listened: silence, nothing. She started to walk, picking her way
more discriminatingly through the tangle of undergrowth. Linnett
noticed a particularly nasty scratch across her forearm and bent
her head to lick the stinging wound. Suddenly and without warning,
Linnett walked smack into the solid chest of her native captor.

Linnett
recoiled in shock; where on earth had he popped up from? The Indian
raised his hand and smacked her, open palmed, across the side of
her face. Stumbling backwards, Linnett fell to the ground. The man
bent over her and said something to her in his guttural language.
Linnett looked up into his dark glittering eyes, giving him stare
for stare, before she spat full into his face. He wiped the spittle
away and back-handed her across the face again, this time splitting
Linnett’s bottom lip.

“Ow! You utter
b-bastard
!”

Ignoring her,
he reached down and painfully yanked her to her feet by her hair,
winding it around his hand to keep hold of her. He strode off,
dragging Linnett along in his wake. Linnett dragged and pulled
resisting him, but it was useless; her tactic barely touched on his
greater strength. Tears of pain and fear spilled down her
cheeks.

When they
arrived back at the clearing, the other natives had simply
vanished. Linnett tried to kick her tormentor and struggled to
break free but the man grinned and picked her up as though she
weighed nothing and threw her face down over the horse once again
before leaping up behind her. This time, however, he swung her
upright and grabbing her ankle turned her so that she sat with her
back to him. Linnett sat up straight, then 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 chest, his steely arm
coiled around her to hold her firmly in place.

Linnett had no
idea how long they travelled for. Once it had grown dark, time
ceased to exist. Linnett fell into a fitful doze, waking and
sleeping depending on the jolting movements of the horse.

Just as light
was streaking across the sky with the pink light of early dawn,
they approached habitation. There was a barking of dogs which
jolted Linnett out of her stupor. The horse picked its way between
clusters of strange round dwellings. A mangy collection of assorted
dogs ran between the horse’s legs, whining and yipping with
excitement. There were almost no people about, only a couple of
elderly women tending to fires. It seemed that the rest of the
inhabitants of this community were still abed.

The native
Indian stopped the horse outside one of the lodges and dropped
Linnett to the ground like a stone before leaping from the horse
himself. He went into the opening of the dwelling holding back a
flap of hide that covered the entrance. He turned to Linnett and
gestured impatiently with his hand for her to follow him. She
stumbled to her feet and, since there was nowhere else for her to
go, followed him inside. Linnett was dazed and unconvinced that
this was actually happening to
her.

A fire was
burning in a hollow pit at the centre of the dwelling and it was a
relief to be inside and warmer. Despite her exhaustion and fear
Linnett then looked around curiously. Above the fire hung strips of
various food stuffs drying and being smoked, roots and strips of
meat, a whole fish and some plants or herbs. The floor of the lodge
was covered in a sort of rush matting. Large baskets stood or hung
lashed around the walls of the enclosure and on the opposite side
of the fire, there were furs covered with woven blankets in bold
colours and patterns.

Linnett’s
captor took her arm and led her to one of these fur and blanket
piles and he gestured for her to sit. Linnett lowered herself
gratefully onto the furs and blankets; she pulled one of the
brightly woven blankets around her and curled up. Closing her eyes,
her last coherent thought before she slept was of John and of how
worried he must be.

Linnett was
awakened by small hands patting her at her cheeks and lifting up
her eyelids. She opened her eyes and stared into a pair of dark
brown, shining eyes belonging to a small golden-skinned child. The
boy smiled at Linnett in recognition.

Linnett
realised that it was
her
baby Indian, the very one that she
had found and cared for! Linnett sat up and held out her arms,
delighted to see the child again, the boy immediately scrambled
onto her lap. He held out his hand to show her the carved horse he
clutched. It was the one that she had given him on the day he had
left her at the cabin. Linnett hugged his small warm body and he
cuddled against her plugging in his thumb.

Linnett smiled.
“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. Linnett settled back enjoying the warmth and companionship
of the little child, his innocent presence relieved some of the
exhausting terror she was feeling. 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 the natives?
Would John be able to track her this far away from Hans’s place?
The questions whirled around inside her head.

There was
movement at the entrance of the lodge, and a large figure stooped
in through the doorway; it was her captor. Today, he was clear
skinned, free of the terrifying black and red paint that had
covered him yesterday. He had obviously bathed, for his hair was
damp and the cocks-comb on the top of his head was soft and fluffy.
There was nothing else “fluffy” about this man, though. Linnett
stared at his harsh arrogant face, noting the high planes of his
cheek bones and the black eyes that appeared to be so cold.

He nodded to
Linnett, and she thought his cheek twitched slightly at the sight
of the child curled in her lap. Linnett held the babe protectively
against her and lifted her chin, staring at him defiantly, refusing
to allow him to intimidate her. With a jolt, Linnett recognised
him: it was the man’s broken nose. This man was the child’s father,
the same man that had been to the cabin to fetch him! Her hold on
the child relaxed slightly, he wouldn’t harm his own son.