“I have respect for living beings, whether they stand upright or prowl the forest, whether they swim in the river or send roots into the earth,” he said.
“You think of trees as beings?” Lavinia asked, marveling anew over the complexities of this man.
For a brief moment she thought of seeing the white panther, and then Wolf Dancer, on the limb of the old oak near her house.
Yes, Wolf Dancer was someone unique, and someone she might be afraid of if she had not been given the chance to know him.
But the opposite was true. She felt safer while with him than she had ever felt with anyone else, even her beloved father. Her father had been an ordinary man who did ordinary things.
Wolf Dancer was not ordinary in any sense, and he was the man she now loved with all her being.
There was not one aspect of him that frightened her, not even the part of him that seemed linked to the white panther.
She recalled having seen something curious backat the village and decided to ask him about it. “Wolf Dancer, I saw something the women were doing at your village that fascinated me,” she said, glad to have something to talk about other than mysteries.
“What was that?” he asked, glancing at her over his shoulder.
“I saw women stringing what looked like green beans on threads,” she said. “Why is that? We have always had green beans in our family garden, but never did we string them on thread.”
“It is the custom among my people. We find that stringing the beans is a good way to store them in the garita,” Wolf Dancer said, this time paying more attention to where he was guiding the canoe. He now directed it toward a long, sandy beach. “After the beans have been strung on thread, the women dry them in the sun for several days. Once they are prepared in this way, the beans will keep for months. When other food is scarce, we always have beans available. The women soak them overnight and then cook them up in tasty, nourishing stews.” He turned back to smile at Lavinia. “Moon Beam will be glad to show you how to string the beans and how to prepare many dishes with them.”
“I want to learn how to do that and everything else your women do each day,” Lavinia said. Then she was distracted from their conversation by a strange sight. She saw piles of bones, all sorts of bones, along the shore where Wolf Dancer was carefully guiding the canoe.
“Those bones,” she said, just as Wolf Dancerbeached the canoe. “Where on earth did so many bones come from? And what creatures are they from?”
“These bones have been here for many, many moons,” Wolf Dancer said, going back and sitting beside Lavinia. “No one goes among them, for it is forbidden to disturb the dead.”
“Are they animal bones, or…” Lavinia was unable to finish her sentence. She just could not imagine those bones being human, for there were so many.
And she could not tell by their shape if they were human or not.
All she did know was that they had been bleached white by the sun.
“These bones have been washed ashore and have come together in these large stacks long ago,” Wolf Dancer said. “No one really knows for sure, but I would say that some are human bones from shipwrecks of long ago.”
“But this is only a narrow, shallow river. How could ships ever travel on it?” Lavinia asked, looking over at Wolf Dancer who now sat beside her.
She could smell the clean scent of him.
She could almost feel his heartbeat, for surely it was pounding as rapidly as hers now that they were so close together.
“I would guess that the bones washed up from the sea over the course of many, many years,” Wolf Dancer said thoughtfully. “They make a fearful sight, do they not? That is why my people avoid this island whenever they can. They are afraid of touching the bones.”
“I most certainly would not want to touch them,” Lavinia said, shivering.
Wolf Dancer slid an arm around her waist and drew her close. “While you are with me you have nothing to fear from anything or anyone,” he said. “But I can see how uncomfortable you are here. I will now take you to another beach where there are many beautiful shells. There we will beach the canoe and walk along the sand. I have brought a small basket for you to gather shells, if you wish.”
“I would love to,” she said, her pulse racing because his lips were so close and his arm was wrapped so protectively and lovingly around her waist. “Wolf Dancer, oh, Wolf Dancer, will you please kiss me? I cannot stand another moment without knowing the wonder of your lips against mine. But if you think I am brazen for asking—”
He twined his fingers through her golden hair and swept her closer to him, his lips finding hers in a wondrous, all-consuming kiss.
Lavinia had never found such bliss, such sweetness, in any man’s kiss. She twined her arms around his neck and returned the kiss, then jerked suddenly away from him when she heard the loud call of a bird. She looked up and found a huge, white, long-legged heron flying down, alarmingly close to them.
“She is only curious,” Wolf Dancer said as he leaned away from Lavinia and gazed up at the lovely bird. “Not too many people come this far into the swamp. She is only used to seeing those bones.”
When he heard Lavinia gasp, he chuckled, brushed a kiss across her brow, then went back tow here he had left the paddle resting against the side of the canoe.
“I will take you now to where you can choose which wampum shells you wish for your own necklace, and also for your daughter and Twila,” he said, already paddling the canoe away from the bones.
Lavinia found herself relaxing more as they drew away from the bones, but when she saw him guide his canoe toward land again nearby, she wasn’t certain she was ready to go ashore, not this close to the skeletal remains.
But when she caught sight of the many beautiful shells that lay everywhere on the white sand, she gasped in pleasure. She was glad when he beached the canoe and handed her the basket.
Together they walked among the shells, some of which were actually in the shape of beads. And there were so many varied colors to choose from.
“These shells have floated in from the ocean, up the river on the tide,” Wolf Dancer said, pointing to one shell and then another.
“Please tell me about these different shells,” Lavinia said, glad that full strength had returned to her legs so that she could enjoy these special moments with the man she loved. “Each one is beautiful in its own way.”
“Let me see if I can find the shells we use to make wampum,” Wolf Dancer said, stopping and kneeling to run his fingers through the sand, unearthing several more shells that the sand had hidden from view. “The white wampum beads come from the inner spiral of this shell.” He held it out so she could see.
“The purple wampum is taken from the shiny inside of a hard-shell clam. Whether purple or white, the shell beads are ground smooth and then used to decorate bracelets or belts. My people prize them as a sign of wealth.”
“There is so much to learn,” she murmured. “But I do find it interesting.”
She began earnestly gathering shells, feeling utterly content. Wolf Dancer had told her more than once that she was safe with him, so she allowed herself to relax completely.
“Wolf Dancer, for the first time since I left my parents’ home to be a wife, I feel free, and oh, so alive,” she murmured. “I cared for my husband, but so often I felt trapped in that huge white mansion. I was only able to get out of the house to spend time in my garden, which I loved, and to go into town occasionally for some brief shopping expeditions. But I never traveled with my husband when he left to tend to business, and he was sometimes gone for weeks upon weeks. Yes, I did feel truly trapped.”
Wolf Dancer was uneasy about her comment on being free, that she was so happy in her newfound freedom.
Did that mean she would never be happy when married? Perhaps she would not even want to marry again.
He had to change her mind if that was the case, for he now knew that life would never be the way as he dreamed if he could not sh
are it with her.
After her basket was brimful of shells andbeads, they stopped and sat on the sand beside the water.
They watched all sorts of birds and butterflies soaring here and there. Lavinia found herself studying their intriguing, colorful markings.
“I have never been as happy as I feel now,” Lavinia murmured, setting her basket on the sand.
Wolf Dancer reached for her and drew her into his arms. He kissed her passionately, but Lavinia stiffened in his arms when she heard a noise close by.
Her eyes flew open and she saw something over Wolf Dancer’s shoulder that terrified her.
“An alligator!” she screamed, just as the beast moved quickly through the water toward them.
Wolf Dancer relived another time, another alligator, another woman that he had loved with all his heart but hadn’t been able to save. He couldn’t allow it to happen again.
Lavinia felt frozen to the ground as she watched Wolf Dancer leap up and grab a large, thick, sharp stick that lay close by. He put himself between Lavinia and the alligator, and just as the beast charged out of the water, its mouth wide open, Wolf Dancer ran toward it and rammed the stick down its throat. The alligator quickly sank into the water, and was soon dead.
Wolf Dancer hurried back to Lavinia. He grabbed her up into his arms. “I am sorry for having put you in harm’s way when I have vowed so often to keep you safe,” he said, holding her close.
She was still so stunned by his bravery, she couldn’t speak. When she was finally able to findwords, she clung to him and thanked him over and over again.
“No thanks are ever necessary when I do things for you,” Wolf Dancer said fervently. “But I would truly like to kiss you again.”
She smiled sweetly at him, twined her arms around his neck, then kissed him.
When he returned the kiss, she felt as though she were floating above herself, it was so beautiful and sweet.
She had finally, truly found her place in this world, and she would never let anything or anyone stand in the way of this newfound happiness.
Especially not Hiram Price.
Yet she could not help wondering what Hiram was thinking now that he knew she was gone, and of her own free will.
She would do all that she could to make certain he had no opportunity to find her and destroy her world all over again.
Chapter Twenty-five
My soul thirsteth for thee,
My flesh longeth for thee.
—Old Testament, Psalms 63:1
The stench of rum was heavy in the air of his study as Hiram paced the floor, an almost empty bottle clutched tightly in his right hand.
He had spent a good portion of the night drinking and trying to make decisions that seemed to elude him.
It was morning now and he could hear the remaining slaves already dutifully in the field, humming and singing as though there wasn’t anything wrong.
But Hiram knew that there was plenty wrong. His whole world had been turned upside down, and all because of his crazy doings. When he had killed his brother, he had expected everything to finally go his way, but nothing had turned out right.
Lavinia had fled with her daughter and Twila to parts unknown. Although she had thought she was being clever by pretending to be ill after her husband’s death, Hiram had known all along that she had stayed in her room to avoid coming face-to-face with him.
He had hoped she would accept Hiram as part of her life and forget her ill feelings toward him.
But he knew now that he’d only been fooling himself when he’d thought she might actually marry him after her husband was gone. Instead, she had gone to great lengths to avoid him.
He now knew that it was more important to her to escape him than to live in a beautiful mansion with all the luxuries she would ever desire. She had fled without claiming any of this as hers.
He expected that she was even now at her favorite aunt’s house outside Atlanta. She had spoken fondly of this aunt often.
Hiram thought he could go to Atlanta and plead with Lavinia to return home, and promise not to broach the idea of marriage. He could say she could run the house as she saw fit. He could tell her he just didn’t want to live alone.
But he had his pride and would not beg that woman for anything.
He smiled wickedly.
Yes, he would have all of this to himself, and be happy for it.
That meant if he wanted a wife, he would have to go looking for one, and today was the first day of his search.
He would make certain the slaves were happy enough in their surroundings to remain while he was gone, even though there was no overseer. He had never given one thought to the slaves’ happiness before.
But now?
Now they were all he had to keep his plantation going. The tobacco fields were all but bare now, with the harvest almost complete. After he took the tobacco to market and got paid for it, he would decide whether or not to stay in that business, or sell the slaves off and try something else.
He would no longer think of Lavinia or the fact that she seemed to have chosen to give up everything in order to escape him!
“I don’t need her,” he grumbled. He slammed the bottle down on his desk. “With my money, I can get any lady I want.”
But he had one more thing to do before heading into town. He intended to put up posters letting the local women know that he was looking for a wife. There were many widowed women, and often they were left penniless.
Frowning, and cursing beneath his breath, Hiram took the stairs two at a time. When he reached the second-floor landing, he didn’t pause before going into Lavinia’s bedroom.
Just seeing her belongings made him angry all over again. He felt deeply hurt, too. He had wanted Lavinia as far back as when they were teenagers in Atlanta.
But his brother, with his sculpted face and suave manners, had been the lucky one. And now his brother was gone and Hiram still didn’t have Lavinia.
He couldn’t help it. Wanting her was eating away at him like a cancer. Even losing his eye had not been as devastating as knowing that he would never have the woman he loved, and had even killed for.
He went into a sudden fit of rage.
He went to Lavinia’s chifforobe and grabbed an armful of her clothes from it. He tore up what he could with his bare hands, then took scissors from her sewing basket and destroyed the rest. He continued until none of her beautiful clothes were left in one piece.
His heart pounding, his jaw tight, he went to a window and threw the shutters open, raised the window, then took the tattered remains and pitched them from the window to the ground below, all the while shouting obscenities.
He stopped and stiffened when he saw that the slaves had stopped working and were looking up at him with wide, frightened eyes. Surely they had heard his rantings and seen him throwing the clothes out the window.
“What’cha lookin’ at?” he shouted. He doubled a hand into a tight fist and waved it above his head. “Get back to work. Do you hear? Or I’ll bring my whip out and set your skin aflame with it!”
They immediately went back to work, and he began to regret threatening them. There was the harvest to consider. He certainly couldn’t do it all by himself.
But he still couldn’t contain his anger. He broke everything in the room that could be broken, then ran down the stairs.
Dripping wet with sweat, and stinking from the mixture of perspiration and rum, he continued his rampage throughout the house. He broke anythingthat reminded him of Lavinia…all the things she had loved and enjoyed.
Even though he didn’t expect her to return and see what he’d done, he still got pleasure from doing it. When he was finished, he stood back and surveyed the destruction.
He wiped sweat from his brow with the palm of a hand, smiling when he saw just how far he had gone. Nothing Lavinia had loved was left intact.
Nothing!
And after he found a woman he could bring into this house as his wife, he’d let
her choose pretty things of her own to decorate the rooms.
Wanting to get on with finding a bride, Hiram went to the kitchen and poured some fresh, cold water from a pitcher into a basin. He splashed his face with it, then straightened his back and ran his fingers through his hair.
He hurried to the gun cabinet in the front hall, grabbed his rifle, and ran outside with it. He already had his pistol holstered at the right side of his waist, and had sheathed a knife at the other side.
He planned to go to the newspaper office in the nearest town and persuade them to print some posters that he could tack up here and there in town. Surely, in time some pretty, lonely thing would see one of those posters and come to investigate. He knew that once she saw the huge plantation house, the fields and slaves, he would have himself a bride.
The woman wouldn’t even care that he had onlyone eye and that he sweated “like a pig,” as some had described it.
Yep, the woman would see how she would be coddled as his wife. He would give her all the pretty clothes her little heart desired!
He hurried outside to the fields. He told each group of slaves that he would be leaving, but he wouldn’t be gone for long.
“I trust you,” he said, looking from one to the other. “I depend on your being here when I return.” Wide-eyed, fear in the depths of their dark eyes, they all nodded.
“Don’t disappoint me,” Hiram said over his shoulder as he hurried to the stable. “You’ll get good food, more’n you’ve ever seen before, once this harvest is completed. You won’t regret being loyal to Hiram Price.”
He went inside the stable, prepared his white mare for riding, then swung himself into the saddle and rode away from the plantation.
“I’m going to find myself a lady!” he cried to the heavens. “And to hell with Lavinia!”
Chapter Twenty-six
Thou shalt love and be loved by me, forever;
A hand like this hand shall throw open
The gates of new life to thee!
—Robert Browning
Although exhausted from her first full day of activity, Lavinia sat beside Wolf Dancer beneath a beautiful sky bright with a dazzling array of stars and a full moon.
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