LeClerc 01 - Autumn Ecstasy (16 page)

They sat quietly for long minutes, both enjoying the closeness. Bear wondered if she would trust him enough to overcome her terror and follow him to the village. He wanted her to meet the people he considered friends.

“As with every group of people, they are neither all good nor all bad. They are different from us, so some of their customs seem strange, even cruel. But they are people, little one, not some evil sent to earth to punish innocent bystanders.”

With a gentle hand beneath her chin he raised her head. “Will you come with me to visit my friends?” When he saw the renewed terror in her eyes, his voice softened. “You’ve met Wolf. Wouldn’t you like to meet his wife and children? He has a tiny son … little more than a babe, who will steal your heart.”

Linsey wanted to jump to her feet, run back to the cabin and hide until spring. But she could see how badly he wanted her to accept his friends. How could she willingly walk into the middle of an Indian village? “Will you hold my hand?” she whispered.

Her fear was so clearly etched on her face that Bear was tempted to take her home. He slowly lowered his head until his lips met hers. It was a gentle kiss of tender understanding. Setting her on her feet, Bear stood, raised his hand and offered it to her.

“I will hold your hand until you let go.”

Linsey grabbed the comforting security, entwining her fingers through his. “I don’t think I’ll let go until we’re home again.”

Without another word, holding tightly to her cold hand, Bear turned and started down the trail. Behind him Linsey searched for courage, but failing to find any, she clung more tightly to him with each step they took nearer to the village.

The children were the first to spot them. When their games ceased abruptly, the adults turned, instantly alert to danger. The children recognized the massive man and normally would have run to him. To them he was as much a member of the tribe as they. He was greatly respected as a fierce warrior. Stories of his strength were always begged for when long winter nights came early and the children gathered around the fires of their grandfathers to hear of days long past or just beyond yesterday. They knew him to be fearless in battle and unforgiving toward enemies. They knew him as a legend who walked among them.

And the children knew him as a friend. They had seen him kneel in the dirt to play a game of stones with the smallest boy. Several of them had been given guidance by him as they tried to master a new skill. They had seen him hold a new baby gently in his huge hands, hands that could have crushed its tiny body as easily as the children crushed ants beneath their moccasined feet.

The older boys had once tried to bring him down. Six or seven of them had clung to his massive body, but he continued walking as if unaware of the extra weight added to his stride.

Linsey did not know that she was the reason the children had not come running with greeting, inviting Bear to play with them. She knew they stared at her but not the reason for their awed hush. They stared opened mouthed at her hair, amazed by its color of the setting sun. Never before had they known anything but shades of black. Manitou had given her a crown the sacred color. Surely she was the perfect mate for the man they knew as Bear Who Walks Alone.

Linsey lifted her head proudly, defiantly, pretending a courage she did not feel. Her eyes remained lowered as she listened to the children’s whispers, not knowing that they marvelled at her hair or compared her skin to the whiteness of the snow. She did not understand how different she appeared. Most of the people had never seen a white man except for Bear. Never had they seen someone whose coloring was so different from their own.

Curiosity overcoming their fear, the children slowly gathered closer. Bear stopped walking and cordially greeted the adults. He smiled at the children even as he felt Linsey’s hand tighten its grip on his own.

“They are only children,” Bear said quietly. “And as all children, they are very curious about a stranger in their village.”

The children began to giggle amongst themselves, and one, slightly braver than the others, reached a timid hand out to touch Linsey’s hair. He pulled back his hand and checked to see if the color had rubbed off on his fingers. He missed Linsey raising her head at the gentle tug on her hair. When the child turned back to touch her again, he found his eyes impaled by hers.

The little boy’s mouth gaped open, and he muttered something to the others. As a group the children stepped away from her. Taking one final terrified look at her, they turned and ran away as fast as the snow and their frightened legs would let them.

“They fear you,” Bear explained when she raised questioning eyes to him.

“Me? Why would they fear me?” She looked down the row of houses and saw people coming out of them, standing near the protection they provided and staring toward her.

“Few of these people have seen a white man other than me. The warriors on raids have crossed paths with the whites, but few of the women and probably none of the children have every seen any.” He turned and started walking down the road, nodding to those he knew only slightly, verbally greeting those he called friend.

“Look at them, Linsey. Their skin is dark, their hair is black and their eyes brown. Your skin is as white as the snow, your hair is their sacred color, but most strange to them are your eyes. They have never seen green eyes!”

Linsey looked at the people watching her. When her eyes chanced to meet someone’s, she could see the shock they experienced. As they approached the middle of the village, she saw the only person she knew.

Wolf stood at the door of his house, legs spread, arms crossed over his chest. When they reached him, he greeted Bear with a nod and turned his dark eyes to Linsey.

“Have you come to hurt my children, Summer Eyes?”

“Hurt your children?” Linsey looked to see if he was teasing her but could read no humor in his face. “Why would I hurt your children?”

“The children of the village whisper that surely you must be a witch woman sent to punish them.”

“Witch?” Linsey’s voice rose in amazement, and she noticed the children ducking behind their parents.

Linsey saw his eyes meet with Bear’s, and for a moment she thought she detected a sparkle; but when they returned to hers, she could read nothing in the dark depths.

“Wolf, I could never hurt any child.” Linsey was truly bewildered. She had come to the village full of fear only to discover that she was causing the children to be frightened. She turned to those nearest her and saw that some of the adults were also showing signs of fear. She turned back to Wolf and pleaded with the proud Indian. “Please, tell the children I would never, ever hurt them.”

No hint of softening crossed his features as his eyes scanned hers. After long minutes of intently studying her, Wolf raised his head to his people and spoke words she could not understand. Slowly they began to return to their own homes.

“Enter my home, woman of Bear Who Walks Alone, and know that you are among friends and family.” Wolf turned, pulled back the hide covering the door and entered.

Linsey looked at Bear, wanting to question him, but he gave her no opportunity as he reached for the hide and held it open.

The house was toasty warm after the coolness of the outside. Linsey was greeted by two pairs of dark, leary eyes and a pair of honey-brown ones that sparkled with mischief.

Wolf motioned for them to be seated, and Bear led her to woven mats near the fire. When she was settled, he introduced Wolf’s wife. Morning Moon smiled shyly at Linsey while their young daughter, Spring Flower, hid behind her mother’s skirt. Linsey said hello to the two and was surprised when both greeted her in English.

Linsey’s attention was then diverted to Wolf’s small son. Too young to know fear because of her hair or eyes, the baby threw himself onto her lap. Linsey was forced to relinquish her hold on Bear’s hand in order to prevent the child from banging his head on the hard ground.

The baby turned to her, grinned a wide, toothy smile and chattered as if she were an old friend.

“This gabby little fellow is Chattering Squirrel.” Bear lifted the toddler from her lap and held him high in the air until the baby squealed with delight.

When Bear carefully set him back on his feet, he again launched himself at Linsey. There had been few opportunities for her to hold an infant and even fewer for entertaining one. Not quite sure what to do, Linsey settled the baby on her crossed legs.

Chattering Squirrel studied this new person intently. One chubby finger reached toward her eyes. Linsey grabbed his hand and held it firmly in her own, watching as his soft forehead furled in concentration. Finally his brow smoothed, and the sparkle returned to his eyes. He looked at her and chattered happily, his vocabulary a confusing mixture of English, French, Shawnee and infant gibberish.

“Good heavens.” Linsey giggled in amazement. “What is he saying?”

Bear translated with a smile, “From what I can understand, he has decided you are a tree.”

“A tree!” Linsey sighed. “I guess that’s somewhat better than being a witch.”

Morning Moon tried to coax her son off Linsey’s lap, with little success. “My son mix words,” she said softly. “My husband and his brother teach me English and French because I not know what my baby say, but sometime we still mix words.”

“You speak very well,” Linsey ruffled the straight black hair of the toddler who sat enthroned on her lap. “But why did he call me a tree?”

Morning Moon smiled and shrugged. “Your eyes must remind him of one.”

As the afternoon wore on, Chattering Squirrel left Linsey’s lap only for short excursions, quickly returning and climbing freely back in his place. While Bear and Wolf spoke quietly, Morning Moon served refreshments with the shy help of Spring Flower. The little girl handed Linsey a white ball, sticky with thick maple syrup.

“What is this?” She tore a piece of it free and hesitantly put it in her mouth. The crunchy sweetness was a delight, and she eagerly ate more.

“We call it a snowball,” Spring Flower answered shyly. “I made it. You like?”

“Yes, very much!” Linsey replied, licking the sticky sweet syrup from her fingers.

“It is one of the first things a little girl learns to make,” Morning Moon said softly. “It is made by cooking corn until it pops white, then coating it with the syrup and making it into a ball.”

Chattering Squirrel was obviously familiar with the sweet. He reached eagerly for Linsey’s and smacked his lips loudly when she put a small piece in his mouth.

Sharing her treat with the baby, Linsey had time to study the interior of the dwelling. Shelves of different heights and widths were suspended from the walls. Some held neatly folded furs, and Linsey correctly guessed they were for sleeping. Others held articles of clothing, colorful bowls and baskets. In the center of the room, a small pit had been dug, and a fire burned brightly, the smoke disappearing out a hole in the thatched roof.

Suddenly realizing that Chattering Squirrel had become heavier, Linsey looked down at the toddler. One chubby hand firmly clutched a fistful of red hair while he sucked contentedly on the other fist. His head rested against her breasts, long thick lashes forming soft shadows against his cheeks.

Linsey gently kissed the head resting so trustingly against her. She raised her eyes and met Bear’s. They shared a long silent look, neither questioning nor denying the feeling of oneness that flowed between them. She pulled her gaze away from his and found her eyes meeting Wolf’s.

“My son trust in you. He knows you are different than others he has met, but he does not judge because of that difference.”

Linsey lowered her eyes to the baby, feeling that Wolf was telling her that she should not judge without first knowing a person. Difference alone was not reason enough to condemn a whole race of people.

“Chattering Squirrel is aptly named.” She rubbed her cheek against the top of his head. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone speak in three languages the way he does.”

“My husband and his brother, Bear Who Walks Alone, have decided Chattering Squirrel will become a great chief. Since the night of his birth, they have talked to him in the languages they know. They think any truly great chief must know the words of others.” Morning Moon grinned impishly at her glowering husband. “They forget that all great chiefs begin as small babies.”

“He will grow up knowing the languages of many,” Wolf defended, straightening his shoulders and sitting taller.

“He will grow up never knowing how to speak his own language,” Morning Moon teased. “He will think he is speaking a language and not understand why only his father and uncle understand what he says.”

Linsey hid her smile in the baby’s thick hair even as she marvelled that Wolf could stare at his wife so fiercely but Morning Moon did not hide in terror. She had never before considered that Indians could love, but it was quite obvious that Wolf and Morning Moon not only loved each other and their children but extended that love to Bear. The gentle teasing, the fierce expressions, the pride in their children … Linsey had seen it all before, on the faces of her friends in Philadelphia.

When it was time for them to leave, Linsey regretfully handed her valuable bundle to his mother. Chattering Squirrel opened his eyes, rubbed sleepily and began to chatter. He reached for Linsey, and his bottom lip protruded stubbornly when he was told no.