Chapter Twenty-one
Bridget's scream pierced the air.
Deborah hung her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. She hadn't thought they'd really hang John! Until the moment his body had fallen from the horse, she had for some reason believed he would be spared. How could she have been so naive?
Deborah took a deep breath, slowly gaining control of herself. Her mouth was dry and she was so dizzy she feared she'd fall from her horse's back, but the moment she heard Bridget's voice, she remembered John's last words. Deborah's eyes flew open. "Bridget. Mary."
Up ahead Bridget was running through the crowd of men toward the hanging tree. John's lifeless body swayed gently from the rope. "No! No!" Bridget wailed, her high-pitched voice tearing at Deborah's heart. "Dear God, no!"
Mary raced to keep up with her mother but someone stuck out their foot and the little girl tripped, falling headlong into the snow.
A man in the crowd picked up a stick and hurled it at Bridget. "Whore!"
"Redskin whore!" shouted another.
Deborah stared in horror as the men turned from John's body, settling upon a new target. Another stick flew through the air, hitting Bridget squarely on the back. That was followed by the pelting stones and an occasional chunk of horse dung.
"No!" Deborah screamed, urging Joshua forward. "Run, Bridget! Run!"
Charlie MacCloud was on his feet, struggling to reach Bridget. "Gentlemen! Gentlemen! Enough! You've had your justice! This woman has done nothing!"
"Mama!" Mary cried, scrambling to her feet. "Mama!"
Sinking her heels into Joshua's flanks, Deborah rode into the crowd of angry men. "Mary! No!" she shouted above the men's jeers. "Mary! Come here! Come to me!"
The little girl turned. "My mama!" she screamed.
"Come here!" Deborah held out a hand. Frenzied men were pushing past the child, knocking into her in their attempt to throw rocks and sticks at Bridget. "Hurry, before you're trampled!" Deborah shouted. To her surprise, Mary came to her, pushing her way through the men.
Deborah reached out a hand. "Climb up behind me."
"My mama," Mary protested, standing just out of reach. "We have to help my mama! Those bad men are hurting her!"
Deborah shook her head, keeping one eye on the crowd of men surrounding Bridget. "Mary! You have to hurry!" Out of the corner of her eye, Deborah saw a small rock hit Bridget in the temple. The Irish woman crumpled to the ground. "Now, Mary!"
Mary lifted her hands and Deborah pulled with all of her might, swinging the little girl up behind her in the saddle. "Hold on tight," Deborah ordered, urging Joshua forward.
Seated astride her horse, Deborah could see Charlie MacCloud kneeling beside Bridget. He rolled her over onto her back. Her eyes stared lifelessly at the clouds above; a trickle of blood dribbled down her temple. Charlie lifted his ashen face to stare at the men. "You've killed her," he said quietly.
Without hesitation, Deborah reined Joshua around, heading out of the barnyard at a full gallop.
"But my mama," Mary protested, looking over her shoulder. "What about my mama?"
"Hang on," Deborah shouted, entering the woods. "Just hang on, Mary."
The child tightened her grip on Deborah's waist, leaning her head against Deborah's back. Although Mary had not seen Bridget fall, or heard Charlie's words, Deborah knew that somehow the child sensed what had happened. The two rode in silence the rest of the way to Host's Wealth.
Dismounting in the woods behind the barns at Host's Wealth, Deborah pressed her finger to her lips. "We must be quiet. Mary," she said, lifting her down from the saddle. "No one must know we're here."
"But this is your home," Mary whispered.
Deborah shook her head sadly. "Not anymore. It hasn't been, not for a long time."
"Where will we go? Those bad men, they burned our cabin."
Deborah squeezed Mary's hand. "Would you like to go to your uncle's village? To Tshingee?"
A smile brightened the little girl's dirty face. "Could we? Will Co-o-nah Aquewa be there?"
"Yes." Deborah tied Joshua's reins to a branch. "Your grandmother will be there too."
"And you? Will you stay with me in the village?"
Deborah glanced at the snowy ground. "Yes," she said quietly. "I think maybe I will."
Mary clutched Deborah's hand. "Do we go now? Do we go to my uncle's village today?" she asked anxiously.
"We do. But first we need supplies." Deborah squatted, speaking to Mary at eye level. "You stay here while I go up to the house and bring back some food."
"Can't I go with you?"
"No. It's not safe. They'll be looking for us. You stay here and wait for me." She forced a smile. "Do you think you can do that?"
Mary nodded, her tiny round face solemn. "I can do it. I will wait here."
Deborah kissed the top of her head. "Good. You're a very brave girl, do you know that?" She brushed a lock of red hair off Mary's cheek. "Now I'll be right back. You guard the horse." She waved, and started out through the snow, running toward the barnyard beyond the trees.
Skirting the outbuildings that were scattered in the farmyard, Deborah kept to the shadows. As she got closer to the house, she wracked her brain, trying to figure out how she could get inside to get some warmer clothes and some food.
The journey to the Lenni Lenape village was chancy but Deborah knew it was her only choice. It was her duty to take Mary back to Snow Blanket and Tshingee. She owed that much to John Wolf. The thought of facing Tshingee and having to tell him that his brother was dead frightened her, but she knew that, too, was her responsibility now.
To her dismay, Deborah spotted Lester Morgan sitting on the front step of the house. Just as she had suspected, she wasn't just going to be able to walk in through the front door. And there was no way she could get back up on the roof and get in through her bedchamber window. And even if she did, she'd just be locked in her room again.
Moving along the side wall of the house, Deborah peered in the parlor window. The room was filled with women talking in loud, shrill tones and drinking from small china cups. She dropped on all fours, moving to the next set of windows.
"Deborah!"
Deborah's froze. "Elizabeth?" She lifted her head to see her sister leaning out the Earl's office window.
"Deborah!" Elizabeth hissed. "I thought that was you! You're supposed to be locked in your chamber!"
"Hush, before someone hears you! Lester and his monkeys are everywhere." Deborah straightened up, brushing the snow from the old cloak.
"How are you going to get back inside without being seen?" Elizabeth whispered harshly. "How'd you get out there in the first place? Don't you know the Indians are on the warpath?"
Deborah leaned in the window. "I've been to Deliverance."
Elizabeth's hand flew to her mouth. "Is Tom all right?"
"Yes, he's unhurt, but his father's been killed."
"You're certain Tom wasn't hurt by the savages?" Deborah couldn't help smiling. "You really are in love with Tom Hogarth, aren't you?"
Elizabeth's dull brown eyes met her sister's. "I fear I am," she murmured.
"So tell Father you want to marry him, you ninny. Better yet, tell Tom."
Elizabeth's eyes widened in shock. "I couldn't possibly do such a thing!"
Deborah glanced over her shoulder, keeping an eye out for movement in the barnyard. "I'm not going to marry him; you might as well."
"Father says you are going to marry him," Elizabeth said suspiciously. "First you were, then you weren't, then you were, and now you're not again?"
"Look, I haven't got time to argue with you. I'm going and I need your help."
"Going! Going where?"
"Shhh!" Deborah leaned in the window, clamping her palm over Elizabeth's mouth. "The whole house is going to hear you." Slowly she removed her hand. "I can't tell you where I'm going, but I'll not be back."
Elizabeth clasped her sister's hand, squeezing it. "You wouldn't truly go, would you?"
"I'm going, and I need your help. I have to hurry. I need you to get me some food, my wool cloak and mittens and two blankets. I also want you to go to my chamber and bring me the doll in the chest at the end of the bed. Beneath the mattress is a small leather bag with porcupine quilling. Can you bring me those things?"
Elizabeth's lower lip trembled fearfully. "I . . . I don't know. Father . . ."
"I'm not coming back," Deborah said firmly. "And he'll never suspect you helped me." Her eyes grew moist. "Please, Elizabeth? You're the only one who can help me."
Elizabeth studied her sister's face. "You really aren't coming back, are you?"
Deborah shook her head.
"Is it the redskin, like they've been saying?"
"It's better if you don't know where I'm going. That way, if the Earl asks, you can honestly say you don't know."
"All right," Elizabeth said resolutely. "I'll do it."
Deborah smiled. "Hurry. I haven't much time left. Everyone will soon be looking for me."
"Why? What happened?"
Deborah shook her head. "Never mind. Just go! I'll wait right here." She gave Elizabeth a nudge. "Oh, and Elizabeth."
"Yes."
"A musket."
"W—what?"
"I'll need a musket."
"What are you going to do with a musket?" Elizabeth asked in disbelief.
"Don't look at me as if I've grown horns! I'm not going to shoot the Earl if that's what you're worried about." She gave a dry chuckle. "Not that I wouldn't like to. I'll need it to protect myself."
"I . . . I don't know where to find a musket. The men took the weapons with them."
"Go into the pantry. Cook keeps an old matchlock pistol in a small barrel on the top shelf. Be sure and bring the powder and balls. Oh, and I've got to have a tinder box . . . needles and thread, and a pair of scissors."
"I . . . I don't know about the pistol, Deborah." Elizabeth's mouth twitched in indecision. "I'd never forgive myself if you shot yourself."
"I'm not going to shoot myself! Now go. Please Elizabeth. I've got to hurry."
Elizabeth closed the window and Deborah sat down in the snow to wait. Twenty minutes later, the window opened.
"Did you get everything?"
"Where did you get this?" Elizabeth asked, holding up Mary's doll. "She's beautiful."
Deborah took the doll. "She was a gift from a friend." She ran her fingers over the hide clothing. It seemed like a million years ago that Mary had given her the precious toy. "What about everything else? The pistol. Did you get it?"
Elizabeth handed two neatly folded gray woolen blankets, Deborah's red riding cloak, and two lumpy flour sacks out the window. "I couldn't find anything else to put the food in. It wasn't easy getting it out of the kitchen. Cook's bound to miss the two loaves of bread and the apple tarts." Elizabeth caught her breath. "I put in a knife and a cleaver. You need something to cut the bread."
Deborah opened one flour sack and then the other, checking the precious contents. "This is perfect, Elizabeth. She pulled out the dusty matchlock pistol then dropped it back into the bag. "Perfect." She looked up. "Thank you."
"It doesn't seem like much food. Are you certain it will be enough to get you to wherever you're going?"
"I'll be fine. Really." Deborah smiled up at her sister. "Now give me a hug. I have to go."
Tears trickled down Elizabeth's cheeks. "I never thought I'd say it, but I'm going to miss you. You and I, we never got along, but—"
"We got along as well as any two sisters." Deborah put out her arms and Elizabeth leaned out the window to receive her sister's embrace. "Don't cry," Deborah soothed. "I'm chasing after my dreams. If Thomas is what you want, then go after him. Tell him you're in love with him. With his father gone, he's going to need you."
Elizabeth pulled a handkerchief from her bodice and blew her nose. "N—no one's ever needed me before," she said thoughtfully. "But I just don't know if I could do such a thing. To tell him, I mean. I've never been bold like you."
"If you want him badly enough, you'll say what you never thought you'd say. You'll do what you never thought you'd do." Deborah rolled up her red cloak and stuffed it into one of the bags. "Bye, Elizabeth. Have a good life." She smiled one last time at her sister, then with her head low, she ran across the yard, toward the woods.
"Think there's many wolves out there, Deborah?" Mary murmured, staring into the dark forest.
Deborah sawed at the loaf of bread she held in her lap, thankful Elizabeth had thought to throw in a kitchen knife. "No."
Mary's eyes narrowed. "Tshingee says there are many wolves in the woods at night."
"Maybe a few. But not here. They're afraid of the fire." Cutting off a slice of Cook's bread, Deborah pushed it into Mary's small hands. She couldn't let the child know how frightened she was of being in the dark forest. When she'd been with Tshingee, the eerie sounds had never bothered her, but here alone, every scratch of a branch made her jump. Every hoot of an owl sent a shiver down her spine. "Eat. It's well after midnight. You must be starved."
Mary sank her teeth into the soft bread. "I like bread, my mama, she always . . ." Tear sprang in her eyes.
Deborah put out her arms to Mary and the little girl came to her. "I'm so, so sorry," Deborah murmured into Mary's hair. She fought back her own tears as she held the little quaking body. "It just couldn't be helped, Mary. I don't know what else to say."
Mary sniffed, holding tightly to Deborah. "My uncle, he would say it was in the stars."
"Yes." Deborah stared up at the bright canopy of pinpricks of light. "He's right."
"I'm going to miss them, my mama and papa."
"I know you are. I'm going to miss them too."
Mary climbed out of Deborah's lap and sat down on the stump beside her. She began to nibble at the bread again, her tears spent. "How long before we reach the village where my uncle lives?"
"A few days if the weather holds up." Deborah cut herself a piece of bread and began to eat it. The night air was cold, but the sky was clear and the wind wasn't too bitter.
"Which way?" Mary peered up at Deborah. "Do you know?"
Deborah chuckled. "I told you. I've been to the village—with Tshingee. Yes, I know. We just follow the Migianac to a certain point where there's a tree hanging over the water, then . . . then . . ." She struggled to recall Tshingee's words. Even Bee could find his way home, he'd said. Deborah shrugged, trying to sound confident. "Once you reach that point in the river, you go west until you hit the giant briar patch, then you go a quarter of a day north and there it is!"
Mary grinned. "You're as smart as my uncle, I think."
Deborah laughed, tossing a stick of firewood into the small campfire. "Maybe not that smart. Now eat your bread and then I have something very special to show you."
"What is it?"
Deborah smiled mysteriously. "Eat your bread and then lie down on the blanket." She winked. "Then I'll show you."
Mary stuffed the remaining crust of bread into her mouth and scrambled beneath the wool blanket Deborah had spread out, still' dressed in her cloak and boots. "I'm ready!"
Pulling something out of one of the flour sacks, Deborah approached Mary, her hands behind her back. "Close your eyes."
Mary squeezed her eyes shut, giggling.
Deborah knelt, pressing the little girl's doll into her arms.
"Olekee!" Mary cried. "Olekee, my baby!" She hugged the doll to her chest.
"I thought you would want me to bring her along."
"Oh, yes!" Mary beamed. "She will want to be with us at the village."
Deborah brushed Mary's hair back off her forehead. "Now sleep. We've got a long way to go tomorrow. We have to get as far away from Host's Wealth as possible."
Mary's eyes drifted shut. "Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you for bringing Olekee."
"You're welcome," Deborah whispered soothingly. "You're welcome, my brave little girl."
The following morning Deborah was awake with the first streaks of dawn. Slipping from beneath the wool blankets, she tucked them around Mary's sleeping form. Shivering violently, she tied the hood of her cloak beneath her chin and began to pack up their few belongings. By the time she had Joshua saddled and the bags packed, she was warm enough.
"Mary. Mary," Deborah said gently. "Wake up, love. We have to get moving."
The moment Mary's eyes were open, she was scurrying to her feet.
Deborah brushed the sleep from the little girl's eyes and tucked her braids beneath the hood of her "We'll eat once we get moving."
Mary nodded sleepily.
Helping her into the saddle, Deborah wrapped Mary in the wool blanket they'd slept on. "Warm enough?"
"Aren't you going to ride?"
Deborah lifted Joshua's reins and made a clicking sound between her teeth. "I think I'll walk for a while," she answered, leading the horse forward. "Close your eyes and rest if you like. It's going to be a long day."
All through the morning Deborah followed the Migianac River. Although occasionally she rode Joshua, she walked most of the time. The foliage was so dense, even in the winter, that often she had to backtrack to find her way through a thicket or a bramble patch, but she pressed on, her confidence in herself increasing with each hour that passed.
I can do this, she told herself over and over again. Just follow the river; put one foot in front of the other. If Bee can find his way home, you certainly can. Home. It was funny how she'd come to think of the Lenni Lenape village as home. The prospect of returning to the village was as exciting as it was frightening. She yearned to see Snow Blanket and Bee again. How many times since she'd returned to Host's Wealth had she dreamed of sleeping in Tshingee's wigwam?
Tshingee. Just the thought of his name made her tremble. How was she going to face him? How was she going to tell him John was dead? What did she expect of him? Did she think she was going to walk into the village and say hullo, your brother's dead, I've brought your niece and now I'm going to stay? Did she expect him to welcome her with open arms?
And what of the baby? Deborah's hand instinctively went to her stomach. Everything was such a mess. How could any of it ever be made right again? She wouldn't blame Tshingee if he wanted to have nothing more to do with her. But she wanted him so badly. She needed so desperately to be held. . . .
A strange sound brought Deborah from her thoughts. She stopped immediately, raising her finger to her lips to tell Mary to be quiet. For a long moment the forest was silent, then she heard it again. The faint wail of a woman.
Or was it some strange bird, or an injured animal? Deborah was unsure. "Did you hear that?" she whispered to Mary.
Mary nodded solemnly. "We are not alone in the forest."
"How can you tell?"
Mary lifted her delicate chin, inhaling. "The air smells different. My uncle says one must not only use his eyes and ears, but also his nose."
"You can smell other people?"
Mary nodded. "I think so."
Deborah's hands trembled as she nervously wrapped Joshua's reins around and around her hand. Now what? she wondered. The sound of the human voice had come from ahead of them. It wasn't anyone come in search of her. Another wail filled the air. It was definitely female.
"Can't . . . can't we just go around them?" Mary asked after several minutes had passed and Deborah had said nothing.
"I'm afraid of getting lost," Deborah answered evenly. She was also afraid she knew who was ahead of them.
Deborah's hand shook as she dug into one of the flour sacks tied to the back of Joshua's saddle. Carefully she removed the matchlock pistol Elizabeth had taken from the kitchen pantry. It was already loaded—she'd done that last night after Mary had gone to sleep.
"You gonna shoot someone?" Mary asked, watching Deborah pull the strap of a small leather bag over her head.
Deborah patted the bag of tiny lead balls and black powder. "I hope not, Mary. It's just a precaution. Now listen to me. I'm going to go up ahead and see who it is. You stay here."
"No."
Deborah looked up Mary. "What?"
"I'm going with you. I'm afraid to stay here by myself. What if you don't come back?"
"I'll come back."
Mary hugged her doll close to her chest. "We can leave the horse here. I can be very quiet, quieter than you."
Deborah exhaled slowly. She didn't want to put Mary at any more risk than was necessary. The little girl had already been through so much. But Deborah had to know who it was that camped up ahead of them. "All right, Mary." Deborah put out her arms to help the little girl dismount. "But you must do as I say and be very quiet. There may be bad people on the path ahead us. Bad people who might try to hurt us."
Mary nodded. "I know about bad people."
Deborah dropped her arm over the little girl's shoulder. "I know you do, love. Now tie Joshua up and we'll go have a look."
A few minutes later Deborah and Mary were creeping along the bank of the river, staying just within the woods line. Ahead they could hear male voices, though they still couldn't make out any of the words. There was laughter and an occasional shout. Someone was celebrating something.
"They camp by the river," Mary whispered.
Deborah looked for tracks as they neared the encampment, but she found none. Either the strangers had come from downstream or they'd come by boat.
Coming around a bend in the river, Deborah dropped to her knees, pulling Mary down with her. Deborah clasped the pistol so tightly in her hand that her fingers ached.
"Mohawks," Mary whispered.