Chapter Twelve
Deborah and Tshingee walked arm and arm through the forest in silence, listening to the rustle of autumn leaves and the chirping of night insects. The sun was setting over the western horizon, coloring the dense woods in a glorious array of orange and golds.
Deborah smiled, resting her cheek against Tshingee's arm. Though her buttocks was still sore, she was nearly healed, after a week's time. Yesterday, Tshingee had removed the porcupine stitches and Deborah had turned his surgical efforts into a ribald wrestling match. For a week they had eaten together, slept together, and made love whenever they chose. It had been an enchanting week that left her heart overflowing with joyous contentment.
But as the days passed, Deborah began to grow concerned. The more time she spent with Tshingee, the more she realized she could never leave him.
How could she return to life on the Tidewater after experiencing life as it could be? Here in the village she was treated as a respected member of the community, as a heroine of sorts since she had rescued Suuklan. She chatted with the women at the stream as they bathed their children; she laughed with the elders as they sat smoking their pipes and telling tales of days' past. Here among the Lenni Lenape Deborah witnessed an independence among women that was unheard of in English society.
Among the Lenni Lenape she discovered that women played an important part in the decisions of their own life. Though a father normally made suggestions as to a mate for his daughter, it was the women who made the final choice. And once she was married, husband and wife made decisions together that affected them both. Children were planned and conceived out of want, not as a result of passion. Like many of the other women in the village, Deborah drank an herbal mixture each day to prevent becoming pregnant.
For a brief few days Deborah pretended to be married to Tshingee, and she imagined what it would be like to remain here in the village as one of the tribe. Other white women had stayed among the Lenni Lenape after being in the village for one reason or another. Why couldn't she?
The obvious reason was John. How could Tshingee's brother be released if she stayed with the Indians? For two days Deborah had concentrated on that problem and still she had come up with no solution. She said nothing to Tshingee, wanting to surprise him when she finally solved the puzzle.
"You are as quiet as a woods mouse tonight, Red Bird," Tshingee said, breaking her from her thoughts. "What do you think of?"
She sighed. "I was just thinking of how happy you've made me, of how I wish it could go on forever."
He released her hand and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, kissing her brow. "Nothing stands forever, not even the grandfather oak. We accept the gifts our Heavenly Father grants us, and when those gifts are gone, we treasure the memories in our heart."
"So it's that easy?" She stopped in mid-step. "I leave and that's the end of it? You just pretend I was never here? You pretend this love between us never existed?"
"I could never do that, Red Bird. You are as much a part of me as this." He lifted his palm. "But I accept what cannot be," he went on softly, cupping her chin with his hand. "I did not say it would be easy."
She pulled away from him, walking ahead. "How can you be so damned calm about all of this?"
"Because it is the way of my people. I cannot let the pain I feel in my heart keep me from doing what I must. I cannot forfeit my brother's life for a matter of the heart."
"I can't believe after all we've shared that you can just let me go."
"Don't you hear the pain in my voice, Deborah. It's not that I want you to go. It's just that I have no choice."
Deborah stopped, lowering her head as a rush of tears pooled in her eyes. "Isn't there any other way to save John?"
Tshingee came up behind her, pressing his lips to the back of her dark head. "I don't think so." He encircled her in his arms, forcing her to turn and face him. "I lie awake at night trying to find a way to keep you with me, but there is no answer. It is my own fault. I should never have offered such a bargain to your father. I should never given him my word for now"—his voice caught in his throat—"I am bound to it."
Deborah clung to Tshingee. "You didn't know, Tshingee," she comforted. "You didn't know we'd fall in love."
"No," he whispered. kissing her tearstained cheek. "I didn't know . . ."
A few days later Deborah knelt on the bank of the stream rinsing an earthen pot and several pewter and wooden cooking utensils. Beside her sat Bee, collecting stones to add to the pouch tied to a belt on his waist. The morning air was crisp and refreshing, carrying the scent of the first snow.
Deborah's hands were numb with cold as she hurried to wash the pile of cooking items, placing each clean piece in a bark basket as she finished with it. Bee chattered at her side explaining how he had nearly killed a squirrel this morning with the slingshot Tshingee had made for him.
"If you hit one, you be sure you kill it," Deborah warned. Tshingee will not be pleased if you wound an animal and leave it to die in the forest."
The child shook his head. "This brave hunter would never commit such a sin." He pulled out his slingshot and took aim. A pebble whizzed through the air and hit a tree limb with a satisfying crack.
Deborah laughed. "Do you think you could show me how to use that thing?"
"Would you like me to?" Bee pushed up onto his knees. "I could—"
"Deborah . . ." Tshingee's voice came from behind. Deborah turned to see him standing behind her, his face twisted with emotion. "Yes?"
"Bee, leave us." Tshingee said quietly.
The little boy leaped to his feet and ran off in the direction of the village.
Deborah dumped the remaining utensils in the basket. Tears formed in her eyes. Somehow she knew what Tshingee was about to say. She couldn't bear to look up at him. "What . . . what is it?" She could hear the crackle of paper as he unrolled something.
"It has come, Red Bird."
"What?" she asked foolishly. A numbness was creeping up her arms to spread through her limbs, a numbness that did not come from the cold water.
"Your father has agreed to set my brother free."
"No," she moaned softly.
"The time and place has been set for the exchange."
Deborah stumbled to her feet. "I kept hoping somehow . . . " She fell silent, raising her hands to rest on his chest. When she felt Tshingee stiffen, she looked into his eyes, her own brimming with tears. His lips were tightly compressed, his face etched with pain . . . and anger. "What? What is it?" she asked in bewilderment. "Why are you angry?"
His voice was stark. "Tell me my brother's land was not to be part of your dowry."
"I can't believe you're saying this." She shook her head. "I have to leave you and you're worried about the damned land!"
"Your father says in this letter that it is to be a gift from you to your Thomas."
"Not from me! Never from me!" she flung. "My father was going to give Thomas that land as payment for taking me off his hands!"
"You should have told me. I thought you were not involved. I thought you innocent of the white man's greed."
"Tshingee. I am not your enemy! I love you, remember?" When she tried to touch him, he flinched and she drew back her hand in horror. Tshingee," she whispered.
"Prepare yourself. We leave when the sun rises again."
Deborah watched, dazed, as he turned and walked away. Then, in sudden fury she grabbed a pewter spoon from her basket and hurled it at his head. The utensil missed it's mark and aimlessly smacked a tree before tumbling to the ground.
Tshingee never broke stride.
Tshingee stuffed Deborah's extra doeskin tunic into his leather traveling bag. "You are going," he said tersely.
She pulled the tunic out of the bag. "I'm not going."
"Do not do this to me, Deborah." He continued to pack the necessary items. "Do not make this more difficult than it must be."
"Difficult? Difficult for whom?" She threw her tunic at his moccasined feet. "If I go back to my father, I'll be sold to Thomas. If he won't have me, it will be someone worse, while you get to stay here and roll beneath the bearskin rugs with Suuklan."
"I told you. Her father and I have agreed I am not the man for her. Sikihilla has already asked that she be his wife."
"So if not her, then someone else!"
Tshingee crouched by the fire in the center of his wigwam and added a few sticks to the blaze. Tonight the wind blew hard out of the north and with it the first flakes of snow. "Yes! he shouted harshly. "Someday I will find a Lenni Lenape woman and we will marry. I have a duty to carry the name of my mother's people!"
"Damn you, Tshingee, do you always have to be so noble?" She stared at him from across the wigwam, her eyes riveted to his bronze face. "Can't you and your men just ride in there with your bows and arrows and free John?"
"I gave my word, Deborah." He took a deep breath, attempting to control his anger. "I explained that to you before. Among my people a man's word is sacred. I could not go back on my agreement with your father, no matter what the price."
"Doesn't our love mean anything to you?"
"You deceived me. You should have told me John's land was meant to be yours."
"It wasn't! Can't you get that through your thick red-skinned head?" She shook her fist in fury. "I would do anything to change what happened but I can't! What am I supposed to do now?"
"You return to your people and John returns to his. You marry your Thomas as your father wishes. Our paths have met and now they separate."
"Can't those paths ever be altered?"
He stood, returning to his packing. "No. Not this time. There is too much bad blood between the white man and I."
"But you are half white man . . ."
He shrugged. "We all carry burdens on our shoulders."
Stunned, Deborah stood in silence, then grabbing her hide cloak, she ran out of the wigwam and into the night air. She went straight to Snow Blanket's wigwam. "Snow Blanket, may I come in?" She shivered, drawing the warm skins closer.
The flap of the wigwam lifted and a beaming Bee looked out. "Come. Onna say you are always welcome, Deb-or-ah."
Deborah ducked in, rubbing her hands briskly. "It's gotten so cold," she muttered.
Snow Blanket nodded, patting a hide mat beside her. "Sit and warm yourself, daanus.
Deborah sat cross-legged on the mat, leaning forward, her hands outstretched to warm them with the center fire. "That son of yours, Snow Blanket! Talking to him is like talking to a fence post!"
Snow Blanket chuckled. "He has always been my difficult child. She puffed contentedly on her pipe, staring into the flames of the fire.
"I don't want to go back," Deborah confided passionately. "There is nothing there for me but unhappiness."
"This old woman is sorry that you have been caught in the tide."
"I could never be responsible for anything happening to John. He was very kind to me. But isn't there another way, Snow Blanket? Can't John and I both be rescued from my father?"
"These things, they are so hard for the young to understand. My son gave his word when he took you from your father's home that you would be returned safely when my John was set free. A brave of the Wolf Clan cannot go back on his word. It would mean a shame not only upon his face but upon our entire family's."
Deborah sighed, shrugging off her fur cloak as she grew warmer. "I love Tshingee. He loves me. He's mad because John's land is meant to be my dowry, but he'll get over it. Snow Blanket, no one ever told me he loved me, not before your son. How can I possibly leave him? No one understands."
Snow Blanket patted the white girl's hand. "Oh, but I do understand. Tshingee's father, John Logan, was the most handsome man I had ever laid eyes on. He made me laugh. He made the stars shine brighter in the heavens." She shook her head. "Do not tell me that I do not understand of a love that cannot be."
"But you managed! You found a way!"
"And the sacrifices were many." The Lenni Lenape woman tapped the bowl of her clay pipe in her hand, emptying the ashes. "It was not easy for either of us. John stayed on his plantation while I lived in the village. There was never enough time to be together."
"But at least you were together sometimes! Tshingee says I will never see him again. He says it's better that way!"
"Maybe he is right."
Deborah shook her head, her long dark braids swinging violently. "He isn't. I know it. He will never be happy without me."
Snow Blanket took out a pouch of fresh tobacco and began to refill her pipe. "No, he will not."
"Then talk to him, please, Snow Blanket. Don't let him take me back."
The Lenni Lenape woman smiled sadly. "John is my son. I cannot ask one son to sacrifice the life of the other."
Deborah was quiet for a long moment. "No. I don't imagine you can." She drew up her knees, hugging them tightly. "I just feel like someone's blowing out the candle. There's no hope left. I know what you and Tshingee say is right, but that leaves me with nothing."
A column of smoke rose and encircled Snow Blanket's dark head. "Never lose hope, Deb-or-ah. It is the stuff that makes our dreams come true."
Tshingee ducked into the wigwam. "Onna." He nodded his head. "I come to say good night. It is time I retired to the mat. I will take the prisoner and go in the morning. I will bring your son John home to you."
Deborah rose and pulled on her cloak, ignoring Tshingee. She offered her hand to Snow Blanket. "Thank you for being so kind to me."
Snow Blanket got up and retrieved a small pouch from a basket along the wall. "This is for you," she said, smiling.
Deborah fingered the soft leather pouch, taking notice of the intricate porcupine quilling along the flap. "Thank you, Snow Blanket. I'll treasure it always. I only wish I had something to give to you."
The woman smiled. "But you have. You made my son's heart sing."
Bee ran to Deborah and threw his arms around her. "Don't leave, Deb-or-ah. Don't go back!"
She smoothed his tight cap of dark curls. "You behave yourself, Bee, and stay away from bear cubs. All right?
Tears ran down his cheeks as he backed away, nodding
Without another word, Deborah brushed by Tshingee and out into the cold. Tshingee turned to follow her but Snow Blanket caught his arm.
"I wish I could heal your pains as I did when you were a child, my giis," she said softly. "Take care. The love I see between you is fierce."
"I gave my word, Onna. I said I would return her to her father safely and I intend to do it."
"I know what you sacrifice. You have this woman's respect." She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "Go in safety and in peace, my son."
When Tshingee entered his wigwam, Deborah had already made a bed on the floor and was lying still beside the fire, her eyes closed. Lashing the door flap, he removed his fur cloak and stoked the fire. His heart was a hard lump beneath his breast. A part of him was furious with his Red Bird. She had deceived him and that hurt. But a part of him still wanted desperately to hold her . . . to make love to her one last time.
Quietly, he made his bed on the opposite side of the fire and lay down, pulling a heavy woolen blanket over him. Resting his head in his arms, he gazed through the wall of flames at Deborah's sleeping face. Somehow the anger he felt for her betrayal made the pain duller. He hoped it was the same for her. For a long time he lay awake watching her sleep before he finally drifted off.
The first rays of morning light brought Tshingee awake. Anxious to return to the Tidewater and have his brother set free, he moved about the wigwam, packing a last few necessary items. "Deborah," he said firmly. "Deborah. wake up."
She blinked, rolling onto her back. The lazy smile fell from her face the moment she remembered what today was. "You're not really going to force me to go back, are you?" She stood and pulled her deerskin dress over her goose-pimpled flesh.
Tshingee kept his eyes averted to prevent his body from betraying his mind. "I told your father I would trade you for my brother. The time has come to make the trade."
"I'm not going. You find another way to get him back," she answered stubbornly as she stuffed her feet into a pair of knee-high moccasins. "I'm staying here. I'll live with Snow Blanket. You're so clever. You find a way to get your brother back safely without involving me."
Tshingee ground his teeth. This white woman made the anger rise so easily within him. "You are going if I have to bind you and carry you every foot of the way, now let us go. We've already wasted precious daylight."
Deborah sat down cross-legged in front of the tiny fire. "I'm telling you. I won't walk a step."
Deborah had never been so humiliated in her entire life. Instead of walking out of the village with her head held high, she rode out . . . tied to a short-legged pony.
She had refused to walk and Tshingee had refused to reason with her. Before she knew what was happening, he had bound her hands and feet and thrown her over the little brown pony like a slain deer.
"You could at least tie me on sitting up," she argued, mortified. She hung upside down on her stomach so that the only thing she could see was the pony's underside and her own feet.
Tshingee was unsympathetic. "If I had treated you like a true prisoner from the start," he snapped, "I would not have had these troubles to begin with. You cannot act honorable, then you will not be treated so." Adding a few more bags to the pony's back, he lifted the animal's lead line and started out of the camp.
Deborah was thankful that most of the villagers were still in their wigwams as she rode through the camp. From the way she lay on the pony, she could see nothing. The camp was silent save for the occasional bark of a dog. The sun was just beginning to light the sky.
"Tshingee!" Deborah heard Snow Blanket's voice. "Are you crazed, my son? What are you doing?"
Tshingee brought the pony to a halt. "I am returning the prisoner."
"Is this any way to treat the woman who saved your betrothed from death?"
"Suuklan and I are no longer to wed."
"It makes no difference," Snow Blanket insisted. "There is no reason to treat the girl like this."
"The prisoner refuses to do as she is told," he said coldly. "I have no time to waste coddling her."
Deborah heard Snow Blanket take a step back. "Go, then, son," she said quietly. "May the Gods be with you and may you return with your senses as well as your brother."
Tshingee gave a grunt, tugging on the pony's lead line and started for the forest.