Six
Tess stepped hesitantly from Dream Woman's wigwam and into the late afternoon sunshine. Three days had passed since her arrival in the village. Raven and several Delaware braves had left two days ago to retrieve Takooko's body. They had brought him home to rest this morning.
At noon there had been a simple burial ceremony. Tess had remained within the protection of Dream Woman's lodge, but she had watched with fascination from the doorway.
The funeral was solemn, but there had been no weeping. Even Dream Woman remained dry-eyed. The Delaware had gathered in the clearing in the center of the village. The women chanted and shook hollow gourd rattles. Muffled drums pounded, and the men of the village danced intricate patterns into the soft soil.
The funeral service had been brief, but it had touched Tess. Takooko's body, curled into a fetal position, was lowered into a small pit in a sunny spot near the edge of the village where other graves were marked. Then, the villagers, one by one, passed the funeral pit in procession. Some knelt in prayer, while others placed small objects in the grave with Takooko. He had been given his bow, a hatchet, a necklace of shells, a pewter tankard, and even a basket of dripping honeycombs.
When each man, woman, and child had paid his or her respects, the villagers scattered, returning to their homes and their daily chores. Dream Woman had gone back to her wigwam and retrieved a basket. She told Tess she was going to pick strawberries. Tess was amazed by the woman's strength. Here it was the day of her son's funeral and she was going to pick berries. The young man she called Taande left with her.
Tess had not seen Raven, except at the funeral and then only from afar. It had occurred to her yesterday when he was still gone that she might be able to just walk out of the village. But when she'd wandered toward the creek, without Dream Woman at her side, a tall, slender brave had appeared from nowhere to step onto the path in front of her. He'd said nothing, but he'd pointed in the direction of the wigwams, his hand resting on the knife in his belt. His meaning was clear. She was under some sort of house arrest and whether Raven was there or not, it would be enforced.
So Tess had decided that at this point her best bet at escape was to wait. Dream Woman had promised she would speak to her son about holding her captive. Of course Tess didn't expect her to do anything about it today, but surely by tomorrow Dream Woman would see to it that Raven released her.
Tess stood in the doorway of Dream Woman's wigwam watching the activity of the village. For three days she had watched the Delaware and she had to admit she was intrigued by their way of life. These people lived in a world so different from the one she knew. There were obvious differences; the huts they lived in and the hide clothing they wore, but there were more subtle differences, too, that tapped Tess's attention. No one ever hurried in the Indian village. No one ever argued. The men and women went about their chores in an easy, carefree manner. The women talked and laughed with other women as they weeded their gardens. The men, though busy with hunting, fishing, tool making, and wigwam repairs, seemed to think nothing of stopping in the middle of a chore to sit in the grass and roll a leather ball to a toddler. Though everyone in the village—even the children—did their own fair share of the work, there was a joy about them as they set to their tasks, a joy that seemed to come from an inner peace.
Tess traced the line of a bent birch sapling in Dream Woman's doorway as she recalled life at her uncle's home. Tess had come to MacElby's Fate thinking she would be a sister to cousin Jocelyn, another daughter to Uncle Albert and Aunt Faith. That was the intention her aunt and uncle had implied in the letters they had sent to England beckoning Tess's mother to send her daughter to the Colonies. On the long boat journey across the ocean Tess had imagined silk gowns, tea from silver tea services, and a bed of her very own in an airy bedchamber filled with fine furniture and rich bedlinens. Tess had imagined meeting a handsome colonial prince who would fall madly in love with her. She knew she would marry her prince and live in a big brick house on the Chesapeake, a house big enough for her and her husband, and all their children, and sister Abby as well.
But reality had set in shortly after Tess's arrival in the Maryland colony. Instead of a long-lost daughter, Tess found herself a wageless servant in her aunt and uncle's tobacco plantation home. Her airy bedchamber was a cramped loft above the steaming kitchen, her bed, a hard, flat pallet shared with two other maids and too many fleas to count. Most of the time Tess wore other servants' castoff homespun gowns which were either too tight at the bosom or billowing at the hips. She spent her days polishing silver in the front parlor and scrubbing down the staircases with sand and harsh lye.
Occasionally when visitors came to call at MacElby's Fate, Aunt Faith would have Tess dress in one of Jocelyn's worn gowns and serve tea to the guests in one of the twin parlors. But even then Tess had felt more like a housemaid than a niece or cousin. Aunt Faith had always spent much of the conversation telling her guests about the penniless niece she had had to take in to feed and clothe.
The only good thing that had happened in the last two years since Tess's arrival in the Colonies was Myron. Myron was a gunsmith in the nearby town of Annapolis. Tess had met him in church and after a few months he had begun to call on her. At first he'd just stood at the back fence and chatted with her while she hung wet laundry on the line, but eventually he had gained Uncle Albert's permission to take her to church each Sunday. Their relationship had developed comfortably from there.
Last Christmas Eve Myron had asked her to marry him and she'd accepted with a squeal of delight. Myron was by no means rich, not like Uncle Albert, but he was comfortable. He had a neat white clapboard farmhouse with twenty acres at the edge of town, and a pair of bond servants. He drove a small open carriage on Sundays pulled by two bays. Perhaps Myron wasn't the Colonial prince she had dreamed of, perhaps he wasn't terribly handsome, but he was a decent man. And he had promised that if she would become his wife, he would send for her sister.
Unexpected tears suddenly clouded Tess's eyes, and she wiped at them irritably. Abby needed her, and here she was stuck in the middle of the forest with a bunch of Indians. Tess set her jaw angrily, thinking of her sister. Raven had no right to keep Tess here, not when Abby needed her so much. Tess had done nothing wrong.
She scanned the village impatiently. Where was Raven? She'd seen him only a few minutes ago across the compound, talking to some men. She had hoped he might come to his mother's wigwam and speak to her, but he hadn't. He hadn't even acted like he'd seen her.
Tess' attention moved from wigwam to wigwam. There was suddenly more activity in the compound. Women were beginning to bring baskets of foodstuffs to the communal center of the village. Someone had started a fire and begun roasting a side of venison.
Ah hah! There he was. Her gaze settled on Raven's bare, broad, suntanned shoulders. He was talking to an old woman, his back to Tess. Tess gripped the birchbark doorway, mustering her courage. It was time he made up his mind, either he was going to have to let her go, or burn her at the stake, one or the other. Tess knew she had planned to wait and let Dream Woman reason with him, but she was tired of waiting.
Tess squared her shoulders and started across the compound, her moccasins, the moccasins that had been Takooko's, making imprints on the dusty ground. The fringe on the short leather skirt Dream Woman had insisted she don brushed back and forth across the backs of her legs. Dream Woman had also given Tess a sleeveless leather vest much like the one Raven had loaned her. Using one of Dream Woman's knives, Tess had cut the skirt from her shift and now wore the tattered bodice tucked into her leather skirt, with the vest over top. Tess felt vulnerable, half-naked like this, but at least her breasts were covered and not swinging in the sunshine like most of the women's in the village.
Tess passed two women carrying a large water skin on a stick; they watched her go by with interest. Tess kept walking. A husband and wife standing near their wigwam with a set of twin toddlers turned their heads to watch her with curiosity. Tess kept walking. She could hear the murmur of voices as she passed the wigwams, but she ignored them. She walked straight up to Raven. "I want to talk to you."
For a minute, she wasn't sure he'd heard her. He just stood there, his back to her.
The old woman who spoke to him stopped in mid-sentence and stared at Tess.
Tess felt her resolve waver a little. "I said I want to talk to you, Raven," she repeated. "Now."
Slowly he turned to face her.
Tess could see a smile tugging at the old woman's mouth.
"I did not give you permission to leave my mother's wigwam, did I?" Raven intoned.
Tess rested one hand on her hip. "You have to let me go." She raised her voice. "You've kept me almost a week. You can't imprison me here any longer!"
He grabbed her by her arm, just above the elbow. "Do not speak so loudly."
She tried to jerk her arm from his grip. "I'll talk as loud as I want! You can't keep me as your prisoner. I didn't do anything wrong and you know it. What happened to your brother isn't my fault!" She dared to point a finger at him with her free hand, touching his bare chest. "And you know it! You know it!"
Raven slapped her hand down and snatched her arm, nearly pulling her off her feet. He walked away, dragging her behind him.
Tess heard a ripple of voices as the villagers watched them go by.
"Let go of me," Tess demanded. "You can't do this to me! You can't keep me a prisoner when I've done nothing wrong."
Raven dragged her toward a wigwam and pushed her inside, shoving her so hard that she stumbled and fell. She slid on the hard-packed dirt floor, scraping one elbow.
He stepped into the wigwam behind her and dropped the door flap. Now that they were alone suddenly Tess didn't feel quite so brave.
"Son of a bitch," she muttered, getting up and rubbing her skinned elbow. Cursing had never been permitted in her uncle's house, but damned if cursing wasn't sometimes necessary!
Raven stared at her with his heathen black eyes. "In this village you do not speak to another like that before others. You do not speak to me in such a tone. You insult me in front of my people."
She licked her hand and rubbed it against her bloody elbow. The skin stung. "Three days! It's been three days since you brought me here, and you haven't spoken a word to me! You just left me tied to that house. If your mother hadn't cut the leather, I guess I'd still be there!"
He crossed his arms over his bare chest. "My mother, she should have left you tied to the lodgepole. Perhaps it would improve your manners."
"My manners!" Tess scoffed. "My manners! You're the one who promised you wouldn't hurt me and then dragged me through the forest! You're the one who brought me here against my will and then tied me to a post like some animal!"
He raised his upper lip in a sneer. "I could have killed you. It would be my right, a life for a life."
Tess suddenly felt her eyes stinging with tears again. She was so angry, so frustrated. But she wouldn't cry. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing how desperate she felt inside. She lowered her head, trying to get control of her emotions. "Then why didn't you?" she asked softly. Her voice grew stronger as she went on. "Why didn't you just kill me and get it over with, Raven?" Slowly she lifted her chin to meet his gaze. "Why?"
Raven stared at her for a moment. "I don't know," he answered, his hostility seeming to wane. "I do not know why. Perhaps because I have already seen enough killing to last a man's lifetime."
The tone of his voice struck a chord in Tess's heart. She hated this man, she hated him for what he'd done to her, but a part of her, a tiny part of her, wanted to comfort him. He had lost his brother, a brother he had obviously loved very much, and in a way, maybe it was her fault. If he hadn't been trying to help her get home, Takooko would never have been murdered by Myron's gun. How would Tess have felt if the tables had been turned? What if it was Abby that lay in that grave?
"Raven, I'm sorry about what happened. I'm truly sorry." She took a halting step toward him, confused by the feelings that made her chest constrict. "But I can't bring him back, and me being here, you punishing me, it can't bring him back either." She took a slow breath, hoping her words were sinking in. "You have to do something. You can't just keep me here forever, and . . . and I don't think you would really kill me, would you?"
Raven's gaze met hers and for a moment time seemed to stand still. For a moment Tess felt his pain and for a moment he seemed to feel hers. There was a strange electric charge that leaped between them, a charge that made her skin tingle.
"You have to let me go," she said softly. "Please, Raven . . ."
Raven turned away. He pulled down some sort of headdress from the birch rafters and fingered the feathers. "Tonight we feast. A tribute to the man I called brother. You will come."
"And what?" She gestured. "Be the main course?"
Raven looked back at her, his solemn face breaking into a smile. "You are funny, Tess. My brother, he was a man who liked humor."
Tess was now utterly confused by Raven's sudden change in mood. He hadn't answered her. He hadn't said what he meant to do with her, but he didn't seem to be angry anymore. He was almost laughing!
So, was he going to let her go after this feast? Is that what he was telling her?
"I didn't know your brother long, but I liked him. This feast, it's to honor him?"
Raven nodded. "When one of us dies, we must rejoice. Though our hearts are saddened for our selfish selves, we must be glad that his soul has risen into the heavens."
She nodded. "I'll come. I'll come and celebrate with you, but then you have to let me go. You can't keep me here. Your mother said you can't keep me for a slave like the Mohawk would have. She said your people don't do that."
"My mother should not speak to you of what is not her concern. Go back to her wigwam and prepare yourself. You may go to the creek to wash. But,"—he pointed—"this man warns you. The sentries watch you and will not allow you to escape. If you try, you will be punished."
Tess opened her mouth to comment, but he didn't give her a chance.
"—I will come for you when the drums call. Go and leave me so that I might make ready."
Realizing she was dismissed, Tess walked toward the doorway. She turned back to look at him before she ducked out. He was gathering clothing, paying no attention to her. She stepped out into the humid late afternoon and walked back to Dream Woman's wigwam.
Tess found Dream Woman alone in her house. The older woman was drinking tea from a porcelain teacup, staring idly. Tess hesitated in the doorway, not wanting to intrude. When Dream Woman spotted her, she waved her in.
"Come." She smiled as if today was not such a terrible day. "I found berries. Tomorrow I will teach you how to dry them for the long winter."
Her comment seemed odd to Tess, but Tess didn't say anything. A lot of the comments these people made seemed odd to her. "I . . . I don't mean to bother you, but he . . . Raven said I would go with him to the feast tonight. He said I could go to the creek and wash up." She came inside. The wigwam floor had been covered in fresh pine boughs and smelled pungent and sweet.
Dream Woman got to her feet. "My sorries. I am a poor hostess." She went to a basket woven of dry pine needles that hung above her head. "Let me give you soap to wash your hair and oils for your young skin. Clean hair brings life to woman."
"No, no that's all right." Tess touched her hair, suddenly feeling self-conscious, realizing how dirty the thick tresses must be. "I was just going to wash my hands and face. I was thinking . . . a towel maybe or a piece of old cloth?"
Dream Woman turned to look at Tess. "Tow-el?"
Tess made a motion, brushing her arms with her hand as if she was drying off. "You know, to rub off the water."
Dream Woman frowned. "It is our way to let the Mother Sunshine and wind wipe the water from our flesh." She came across the wigwam to press two small soft leather bags and a porcupine hairbrush into Tess's hand. "Go, clean yourself. Make your hair fresh and sweet for the Raven. A man likes a woman with hair that smells of the sunshine."
Tess twisted her foot in the pine boughs on the wigwam floor. "I know I shouldn't ask, but,"—she looked up at the beautiful Indian woman—"did you speak to him about me . . . to Raven?"
"I have not had the chance to talk to my son, but tonight at the feasting I will." She patted Tess's shoulder. "This woman, she promises all will be right. I am called Dream Woman for the futures I see in the flames of the fire. Go. Soon darkness will fall and the drums will call us."
Tess took the brush and little leather pouches and left Dream Woman's home. She crossed the compound, weaving her way between the other wigwams. The village was alive with activity, but no one paid her much mind. She was greeted with a few curious stares and the occasional wave.
Tess sighed. Maybe Dream Woman was right, maybe cleaning up would make her feel better. She was so confused by all that had happened in the last week and the strange mixture of emotions she felt inside. A bath might clear her head.
Tess followed a narrow path through a grove of sycamore trees toward the creek. She passed two women on her way, both of them with wet hair and bodies still dewy from bathing. Tess nodded hesitantly, after all no one in the village but Raven had been unkind. One of the Indian maids nodded and smiled at Tess. The other looked away. Tess continued her way to the creek.
At the creek bed Tess walked upstream a little to avoid several Indian women bathing naked. Tess was shocked by their lack of modesty. There they were standing in broad daylight wearing nothing but tiny triangular leather skirts over their netherparts. They were bathing bare-breasted in the creek where anyone, any man, could come along and see them!
Tess glanced back over her shoulder. She was certainly shocked as any decent white woman would be but she couldn't help wondering what it would feel like to stand in the sunshine all wet and naked. Would she laugh like these women laughed now?
Around a slight bend in the creek she found a place where the shallow water turned deeper. Tess sat down on the side of the mossy bank and removed her moccasins. Setting the brush and leather pouches down, she dipped her feet in. The water was so cold she had to stifle a squeal. But after a moment her feet grew a little numb and the fresh water felt good.
Dangling her feet in the creek below, Tess opened the drawstring of one of the little bags Dream Woman had given her. A strange herbal scent rose from the doeskin pouch. Inside were fibers from some frothy weed.
Soap? Tess thought to herself. Was that what Dream Woman said this was? She opened the second pouch to find a smooth cream that smelled faintly of honeysuckle. Tess smiled to herself. Jocelyn had always had jars and pots of strong smelling perfumes on her dressing table. Once Tess had tried a little from a small blue jar. She'd only used a dab of the oily perfume and hadn't even liked the smell of it on her skin, but later Jocelyn had noticed the scent of it on Tess and had thrown a fit. After that Tess had not been permitted in Jocelyn's bedchamber, even to clean.
Tess closed the second drawstring bag and shrugged off the woman's vest Dream Woman had given her to wear. Wearing the short leather skirt and the remnant of the bodice of her shift, Tess leaped into the creek. The cold water hit her mid-section making her gasp for air. How did those women swim in this icy water?
The temperature was so cold that Tess was tempted to climb out, but she found herself so grimy that her desire to be clean overrode her discomfort. Her body slowly numbing to the cold, she grabbed the soap bag and waded out a little further. Sitting on the gravelly bottom she leaned back and wet her hair. Then, removing a bit of the frothy weed from the bag, she tossed it to the bank and began to soap her hair. The weed was surprisingly rich, forming soapy bubbles in her hair as she massaged it into her scalp.
Heavens, how long had it been since she'd been able to wash her hair? Tess groaned with delight as she leaned back in the cold water and swirled her hair to rinse it. It was then, just out of the corner of her eye that she spotted the Indian.
Tess sat up, trying to cover the transparent wet cotton of her shift bodice with her arms.
The Indian stood leaning against a tree watching her. Unlike Raven, he wore his hair shorn in the front and long in the back. From one ear dangled a silver earring and around his neck he wore necklaces of shells and acorns. He was a handsome enough man with a long aquiline nose and high cheekbones. His bare shoulders were every bit as muscular as Raven's, but this man was shorter, stockier. Funny that I would immediately compare him to Raven, Tess thought.
The Indian smiled, showing even white teeth as he waved a greeting. He appeared friendly enough despite the fact that he was heavily armed. Strapped over one shoulder, he carried a flintlock musket. From his beaded belt hung a feathered hatchet.
Tess just stood there looking at him for a moment, debating what to do. Should she scream? Run? Her hair hung in thick hanks, dripping down her back and shoulders. Standing out of the water like this, she shivered with cold.
"Greetings," the brave said lazily. "I am called Na-Kee."
"I . . . I'm Tess."
"I know. My village is alive with women's chatter that the Raven has flown in with a white woman beneath his black wing."
Tess rubbed her bare arms for warmth taking care to keep her breasts covered.
Na-Kee gave a wave. "Do not fear me. I will not hurt you. I am War Chief of my people and a respected man." He smiled again. "Some maids say I am even an attractive man."
Slowly Tess waded toward shore, keeping her eye on him. At the bank, she twisted her hair in her fingers. "I . . . I was just bathing," she said. "I'm going to the feast."
"Hair the color of the flame," Na-Kee mused. His gaze met hers. "Good, I will see you, then. I will go to the feast as well."
Still feeling self-conscious of her wet bodice, she reached for the leather vest on the ground and slipped into it. When she looked up, he was standing right beside her.
"A woman so beautiful needs beauty to adorn her." He lifted a necklace of acorns from his bare chest and lowered it over her head.
Tess touched the pretty necklace. "Thank you." She offered the barest smile.
"Na-Kee. I am called Na-Kee."
"Thank you, Na-Kee," she repeated softly.
He brushed her chin with a finger. Before Tess could react he had walked away, back up the path Tess had come.
He was nice enough, Tess thought as she opened the bag of honeysuckle cream and dipped her finger into it. But come to think of it, everyone in the village had been pleasant enough. Everyone but Raven. She rubbed the cream onto her dry hands and arms, even rubbing a little at her neck. The acorn beads around her neck clicked as she moved and she liked the sound. She knew the necklace was just worthless acorns, but she'd never owned any jewelry before.
Realizing she'd probably been gone long enough, Tess gathered the leather bags and brush Dream Woman had given her and started back down the path. As she walked, she pulled the thick bristled brush through her hair. Halfway back to the village, Tess met Raven.
He stopped on the center of the path, staring at her. "Where did you get that?" he demanded.
Tess looked at him. He was angry at her again. "Where did I get what?"
He pointed. "The necklace!"
Tess touched the acorn necklace the brave in the forest had given her. A woman so beautiful needs beauty he had said. No one had ever called her beautiful before. "From a man in the woods. He knew you. He said his name was Na-Kee."
Raven reached out and grabbed the necklace from around her neck, snapping it with one swift, angry motion. The string broke and the acorns tumbled to the ground. "Never, ever take another thing from Na-Kee," he warned. "Never!"
Before Tess could say a word, Raven stalked off, leaving her on the path alone, acorns scattered at her feet.