Chapter Twenty-Four
"I told her what happened," Josh said weakly.
"You told her?" Fire Dancer attempted to keep his voice temperate. Had Josh told her the truth? He couldn't have, else she 'd not be holding me so tightly .
Mackenzie wiped the tears from her eyes. "He was killed in the fighting that night we left the fort. Josh said a lot of the soldiers were killed. The Hurons burned the fort."
Fire Dancer released Mackenzie with one arm, but held her with the other. He faced Josh. "Gentle Bears tells this man you tried to enter our village. You were shot as an intruder."
"I was trying to save Mackenzie," Josh answered. "I didn't know—" He glanced away. "That she stayed here of her own free will. That she married you." He said the last words with a tone of finality to his voice.
Fire Dancer pressed a kiss to Mackenzie's forehead. It felt so good to have her in his arms again. When the French had canceled the scouting expedition, he'd been relieved, and then he felt guilty. What kind of warrior had he become that all he wanted to do was sit at his hearth, smoke his pipe, and watch the sway of his wife's hips as she painted her pictures?
"This man would ask the women to leave this wigwam so that I might speak to the white manake." Fire Dancer kissed the top of Mackenzie's head. Her hair smelled as sweet as clover honey. "Wait for this man in our lodge," he whispered to her, his voice full of promise. He kissed her again and released her. He hated the emptiness he immediately felt inside.
Mackenzie, Mary and Laughing Woman took their leave, allowing the two men privacy. Fire Dancer stood at the hearth and warmed his hands. His chest was filled with mixed emotions. He was thankful that the young man had not told Mackenzie who was responsible for her father's death. Such words should not come from anyone but himself. At the same time, Fire Dancer felt immensely guilty. He had intended, from the beginning, to confess to her, yet his confession had never come. He'd made one excuse after another, but the truth was that he hadn't wanted to tell her because he couldn't bear to lose her. To lose her would break him.
"You did not tell my wife the truth," Fire Dancer said quietly.
Josh rested flat on his back on the sleeping platform, his hand on his bandaged wound. "I told her the truth. Franklin Daniels was killed in battle. I just didn't tell her the whole truth."
Fire Dancer turned his gaze to the boy that he knew loved his wife. If Franklin Daniels had had his way it would have been Josh who would have married Mackenzie, not Fire Dancer. "But you did not tell my wife her father died by my hand. Why?"
He lifted his good shoulder in a shrug. "Hell, I don't know. I should have told her." He stared at Mary's good luck ornament that hung over the sleeping platform. "But I couldn't. Didn't see any point. You're married." He paused. "She loves you."
Fire Dancer walked to his side. "I will care for her always," he said gratefully. "Love her fiercely, always."
"She wanted you, not me. I saw it the day we marched into Fort Belvadere." Josh made no attempt to hide his disappointment. "She never would have married me, even if you hadn't come along." He shook his head. "I just never thought she'd do such a thing. This is even outrageous for Mackenzie. To marry a sa—an Indian. Live with Indians."
"She is well-cared for. Well-loved among my people."
"I know. I can see it in her eyes. But living with redskins . . ." He grimaced. "Is she safe?"
"She is safe."
Josh nodded. "As long as I know she's all right. If this is what she wants, guess I can . . . should go."
Fire Dancer felt a great sense of respect for the boy . . . the man. "I will tell her the truth."
He snapped his head around. "Why? What will you accomplish? I saw what happened from the end of the palisade. Franklin fired on you after you lowered your weapon—after he swore he wouldn't."
"You do not think I should tell her? It was in self-defense."
Josh glanced at him. "Don't tell her. All you'll do is relieve your own conscience. She doesn't need to know."
"This man wants to be honest with his wife, always. I expect honesty from her. Marriage is based on honestly and trust among my people."
"So tell her if you want. I'm just sayin' what I would do." Josh closed his eyes and rubbed his wound. "Damn thing hurts. You think your medicine woman could give me more of that tea? It makes the pain better than anything a surgeon's got."
Fire Dancer stood over Josh. He wanted to somehow express his gratitude, but it was difficult. He considered Josh Watkins his enemy. Or at least he had. "I will send our medicine woman in, and my sister."
Josh smiled. "Your sister, Mary. She's sweet. She's been so good to me. She sat up all night with me last night. She dripped water into my mouth when I was too weak to drink."
"Mary is a good woman."
Josh closed his eyes. "Pretty, too."
Fire Dancer wondered if he imagined the man's interest in his cousin. "I will send the women." Fire Dancer patted Josh's good shoulder awkwardly. "Thank you for not telling my Mack-en-zie. This man will always be grateful to you."
Josh waved his hand as Fire Dancer left. "Just go to her. Comfort her. You're the one she needs."
A few days later Mackenzie entered her wigwam to find Fire Dancer standing at her easel staring at a painting. It was Fire Dancer's original portrait. In her haste to leave earlier, she must have forgotten to hide it.
She tucked her hands behind her back. "I . . . I wanted to surprise you when it was done." She lifted her hand lamely toward it. "I checked with Snake Man first. He said I'd not harm your soul or mine by altering it."
Fire Dancer dropped his arm over her shoulder. "It is good, Mack-en-zie."
She studied the painting proudly. She had altered Fire Dancer's stance slightly so that his head was turned, his face concealed by his long, thick black hair. Beside him, she had added a red-haired woman whose face was also concealed. Herself. In the portrait, their hands were linked. When their child was born, she already knew where she would add him or her to the painting.
"It is beautiful," he whispered. "The best you have painted." He turned toward her and hugged her. "This man is honored."
Mackenzie squeezed him tightly. Over his shoulder she studied the growing number of portraits that lined the wigwam walls. She loved painting the Shawnee. It gave her a purpose other than being Fire Dancer's wife. But what was she going to do with all the paintings? A few of the Shawnee had accepted portraits as gifts, but many were still too superstitious to do anything but admire them.
He kissed her and Mackenzie pressed her hips seductively to his. "Our guests will be here soon," she whispered in his ear. "I do not think there is time."
He flicked his tongue over her upper lip. "This man knows. He but makes a promise for later."
She giggled and kissed him again. They parted. "It was good of you to invite Josh to our evening meal." She stirred a pot of venison and corn soup. "I'm glad there are no hard feelings between you."
Fire Dancer sat beside the hearth to carve a pipe he was making for Snake Man. "He is a good loser." He grinned.
Mackenzie laughed and gave him a playful kick with the toe of her moccasin. "Have you noticed . . . Mary seems to be interested in Josh."
"She is interested in any white man."
"No, this is different." She shifted a clay pot of cornbread over the coals. "He likes her. Yesterday I saw them kissing behind the sweat house."
Fire Dancer's forehead furrowed. "Are you to become the matchmaker of our village? Perhaps you could find a mate for my brother, as well."
She ignored his comment. She was in too good a mood to ruin the evening by discussing Okonsa. "I'm serious. I see a possibility. Mary wants a white husband. Josh needs a mate. They're well-suited for one other."
Finally seeming to realize Mackenzie was serious, Fire Dancer glanced up from the rosewood pipe. "He would take Little Weaver as a wife, a redwoman, a woman who carried another man's child?"
"He's a good man, Fire Dancer. He just wasn't the right man for me. I think he'd make an excellent husband for Mary. Since I'm not returning to the Chesapeake, I'll be giving him my father's tavern. Mary could have a new gown every year, and a cupboard of china plates."
"This man would miss her if she left."
"But you want her to be happy, don't you?"
"Ah . She has been through so much. She deserves happiness if there is anyone on this earth that does."
Outside, Mackenzie heard Mary's laughter and the low rumble of Josh's voice.
"Here they come." Mackenzie met her guests at the door. "Josh. Mary. Robert." She stepped back to allow them entrance.
Fire Dancer formally greeted their guests and they all sat down for a meal of venison soup and corn bread with honey Mackenzie had harvested herself. Afterward, the men sat back to smoke their pipes and nibble on nuts and dried berries. The women cleaned up the dishes.
As Mackenzie gathered the wooden trenchers and spoons it occurred to her that life on the Chesapeake was not as different from life here as she had once imagined. The Shawnee's homes were different, their language was different, the color of their skin was different, but people seemed to be universally the same. They laughed and cried about the same concerns. They made love, they argued. After supper, men smoked pipes and talked of livestock and hunting, and women cleaned dishes and gossiped.
"He is handsome, yes?" Mary whispered as she dipped a dirty dish into the wash bucket.
Mackenzie glanced over her shoulder at the three men in conversation. "My husband? Ah , he is handsome."
Mary giggled and elbowed Mackenzie. "No."
It did Mackenzie's heart good to see Mary smiling again. "Robert Red Shirt?" She frowned. "I think he already has a wife."
Mary burst into another fit of nervous giggles. "Joshua. This woman thinks he likes me."
Mackenzie looked into Mary's eyes. "And why shouldn't he? You're an intelligent, caring, beautiful woman."
Mary lowered her gaze, blushing. "He makes me laugh. He knows I have been with other men besides my dead husband and he says he doesn't care."
Mackenzie's eyes twinkled. "He would make a good husband, would he not?"
Mary nibbled on her lower lip. "Ah . He would, if he would have me."
"If he would have you?" Mackenzie rinsed a wooden spoon. "If you will have him, you mean."
Mary watched Josh wistfully. "This woman would make him a good wife. He says he will return to your father's tavern. This woman could cook and clean for the tavern. Make for suc-cess-ful man."
"I agree." Mackenzie glanced over her shoulder at the men again. "So all we have to do is convince him, right?"
The two women's gazes met and both laughed.
"What are you two laughing about?" Robert Red Shirt asked, rising. "Us, would be my guess. Women are like that."
Mackenzie dried her hands on a linen towel and passed it to Mary. "We would do no such thing, honored guest."
Robert Red Shirt stood with his hands on his hips and studied Mackenzie's portraits, one at a time. "These are very good," he said. "As good as the paintings this man has seen in galleries in France."
"You think so?" Mackenzie stood beside him.
"Yes." He turned to see the ones that hung on the wall behind him. "There are so many. What will you do with them all?"
"Well, they're not all finished. I paint in stages." She shrugged. "I don't know what I'm going to do with them. I paint because I must, not because I have something to do with them when I'm done."
His dark eyes narrowed. "This man would buy them from you, if you would be willing to sell them."
"Buy them?" Mackenzie gave a small laugh. "You would buy them? For what?"
"To sell. This man thinks there are ladies in Philadelphia that would grace their parlors with portraits of the wild Indians ."
Mackenzie lowered her hands to her hips speculatively. "You think so?" She glanced at Fire Dancer. "Do you hear what Robert Red Shirt says, husband? He wants to buy my paintings and sell them."
"You would be willing to sell them?" Fire Dancer walked over and stood beside her.
"All but a couple. Perhaps if the English saw portraits of how the Shawnee live, they would realize we're not as different as they think. Not as threatening."
"I could take them when I leave here. If they sell, I would come back for more in the spring."
"And you would pay me."
"English coin."
Mackenzie's mind was churning quickly. "Could I have goods, instead?"
"Goods?" Robert asked.
"You're a trader. Could I have cloth and needles instead? Wool, knives, silk thread. Supplies our village can use."
"This man could bring you supplies in the spring."
Mackenzie looped her arm through Fire Dancer's. She couldn't believe it. Someone was actually going to buy her paintings! "It's a deal. Pick any you like, except . . ." She released Fire Dancer's arm and walked to her easel. "This one of Fire Dancer and me, and that one." She pointed to the portrait of the boys playing marbles. The painting was all she had left of Tall Moccasin . . . it and her memories.
"If they sell like I think they will, I'll want more."
"I can paint more," she assured Robert, returning to her husband's side. "I'm going to be here a long time."
Fire Dancer's gaze locked onto hers and they kissed, oblivious to the others in the room.
Fire Dancer burst into the wigwam. "This man must go." Mackenzie jumped up from her stool and dropped her brush. "What's wrong?"
Fire Dancer grabbed his travel bag and stuffed necessary items into it. "Okonsa returned with his men, but not all of them. Battered Pot and Sits Silently are dead."
"There was fighting? I thought you were only supposed to scout. "
Fire Dancer grabbed his water skin and his extra pair of moccasins. "I go to the French fort. We did not agree to fight. We should not have had to fight." Mackenzie touched his arm. "Please be careful."
"I must take Gentle Bear with me, but I gave instructions to Okonsa to watch over you. If you have any need, tell him. Do not stray from the camp. Send a boy for water."
Mackenzie didn't want Fire Dancer to go, but she didn't voice her protest. She knew there was no point. "How long will you be gone?"
"This man does not know."
"You'll miss Josh and Mary's wedding. Josh was hoping they could leave in a few days if the weather breaks. He's anxious to get home."
"This man is sorry. It cannot be helped. I will say goodbye to my sister in case I do not return in time." He balled his fist angrily at his side. "I did not want to fight the English."
Mackenzie's heart ached for Fire Dancer's anguish. In the last few weeks she'd begun to understand how difficult it was to be a leader. Fire Dancer felt responsible for everyone in the village, yet he had to honor their decisions, even when he thought they were wrong.
Fire Dancer slung his pack over his back and reached for his snow shoes. "Give this man a kiss, wife."
She grasped his tunic and pressed her mouth hard against his. "I love you," she whispered, resolving not to cry. She was glad she hadn't told him about the baby yet. Fire Dancer had enough to worry about. He didn't need to be concerned about her and a child.
"You will be all right?"
She forced a smile. "Fine. I've the wedding preparations and I have to pack up the paintings Robert will take with him. He's going to escort Josh and Mary back to the Chesapeake."
Fire Dancer kissed her again and started for the door. "Goodbye, wife. This man loves you." She grabbed one of the support beams and hung onto it for strength. "How much?" she whispered, not trusting her full voice.
"As the birch tree loves its bark."
The doorflap fell and Fire Dancer was gone.
Mackenzie stared at the door for a long a moment. "He's going to be all right," she said aloud to calm her fears. "He's a warrior. He knows how to fight if he must. He'll come home to me safely." She picked up her brush and dabbed it in the brown bark paint. "He has to."
That night Mackenzie turned in early. She was physically tired, and emotionally weary. She fell into a deep sleep, with the aide of one of Laughing Woman's herbal teas.
Sometime in the night, she was vaguely aware of Fire Dancer sliding into bed beside her. She snuggled against his warm nakedness and sighed. She was glad he was home. She always slept better with him beside her.
His hand grazed her breast and she recognized that he didn't smell right.
Somewhere in her sub-conscious, an alarm went off. Fire Dancer had gone to the French fort. How could he be here? The thought startled her and she jolted wide awake.
Mackenzie stiffened in horror. The man held her in his arms, his hand possessively on her breast. He was not Fire Dancer.