Forbidden Caress

by Colleen French

  "Yes," she returned breathlessly. She got to her feet. "I'll get the water."

  The salve had done wonders for Katelyn's itching by the time Won reappeared, a small boy in tow.

  "Katelyn, this is my son, Ameen." She wrapped one large arm around the boy and swung him into the air, forcing a string of giggles from him. "He is a good boy. Aren't you, my little bird who flys?" She dropped him to his feet, and the boy ducked into Tipaakke's wigwam.

  Katelyn swirled her bare foot in the dust, unsure of what to say. But, Won continued to chatter, seemingly unaware of Katelyn's discomfort.

  "It is a good thing for my boy to spend time with Tipaakke. He helps to bridge the loneliness. Tipaakke had a fine son. It is sad that he is gone." Won seated herself in front of the wigwam on a patch of grass and patted the earth beside her. "Sit. I am here to teach you a Lenni Lenape woman's duties. Tipaakke says you must learn to cook and gather food so that you can care for him. What a lucky woman!" she added, giggling. "Such a fine man!"

  Katelyn ignored her last comments and sat down to watch Won remove woven bags from around her shoulder and neck. She reached into one of the bags and, to Katelyn's horror, removed two wiggling fish.

  "Just caught them. I will show how to clean and cook them. Also, we will make cakes of ground corn."

  Katelyn wrinkled her nose. "They're still alive!"

  "Yes, they are," she answered, wacking one and then the other on the back of the head with a rock. "But now they are not."

  Katelyn swallowed hard. Don't be a child. You've seen a dead man. What is a dead fish, but a meal? "I've never cleaned one before. We ate them rarely in our house. My father was a mutton man."

  "Mut-ton? What is this mut-ton?" Won's eyes flashed brightly.

  "It's lamb. Sheep."

  "Sheep? This word, I don't know."

  "No. I don't guess there would be sheep out here. The meat is strong, very fatty. It was Father's favorite; always served on Tuesdays, Thursdays, Saturdays and alternating Sundays."

  "Fatty? This mut-ton might be good for tanning hides, but not for eating. It is not good for the skin to eat the fat of animals. I eat many berries, fish and birds. It keeps my skin smooth. Did you like this fat mut-ton?" She removed a thin stone from one of her baskets.

  "It didn't matter if I like it. It was what the Lord provided."

  "Pro-vided?"

  "Gave."

  "I think it is what your father gave. Humph! If I did not like this mut-ton, I would not eat it. I would tan my hides with it. Now watch me."

  Katelyn leaned over Won, who had retrieved a large, flat stone from near the wigwam. She resigned herself to the fact that she must learn to clean this smelly thing if Fox wanted her to. She had to. Her life lay in the palm of his hand.

  "This rock is for cleaning and fixing the meal. Is there a flat piece of tree in the wigwam? This big." She opened her arms in demonstration.

  "I don't know."

  "Get up and look!" Won shook her head. Maybe Mekollaan was right. Maybe the girl was touched.

  Katelyn scrambled up and ducked into the wigwam. The boy was sitting in front of Tipaakke on the floor, giggling as they played some sort of game patting hands. Tipaakke didn't play well, only hitting the child's hands by accident, but that made Ameen all the happier.

  "Fox." His name tasted tingly on her tongue. "Is there a flat board here? Won says there's one to clean fish."

  "Yes. Where the baskets and pots lay on the floor. It was my wife's." He returned to the game as Ameen pulled his large hands up to meet small ones.

  "Here. I found it. It was his wife's." Katelyn returned to Won's side. "Do you think it's all right? To use her board, I mean?"

  "Yes, why not? She would want someone to care for her man. Now watch me."

  She nodded, leaning closer. If it was necessary to clean fish to stay alive, then clean fish she would.

  "To clean the flesh of animals, you place the board on your rock. It is better that the cutting stone hits wood. It doesn't dull so fast." Won crossed her legs, pulling her skirt down delicately. "I make the best fish of anyone in the village, so watch me. It is the secret flowers I grind and sprinkle on them as they cook." She laid one fish on the board and began to scrape the scales with great efficiency.

  "Why do you scrape the skin?"

  "To take off the . . . I don't know the word. Here, feel." She grabbed her hand and ran it against the scales. "There are some fish that you peel the skin off, ones that swim in the great water. But these we scrape." She flipped the fish over and continued. "You have not asked me why I have a son when I have a man's body."

  Katelyn's eyes grew wide. Everyone here was so blunt. "I did wonder," Katelyn stammered, "but, I was afraid to ask. I didn't want to be rude."

  "Yes. Sometimes it is not right to ask questions that don't concern you or your family. But I don't mind questions. I know I'm different."

  "Why do you have a child, then?" Katelyn kept one eye on the fish Won was scaling.

  "His mother drowned in the great water, his father was killed in a Mohawk raid. He had no grandparents so I asked the chief if I could take Ameen for my son. Our chief is a very wise man. He gave me my wish. I am a good mother to my boy, and the men in the village are his fathers. Watch me."

  The bile arose in Katelyn's throat as she watched Won split the fish's belly open and pull out long strings of goo.

  "You clean the insides out. Save them, we'll use them later. You can cut the head and tail off, if you want. I like to leave them on; the fish looks so nice, baking that way. Do as you wish." She pushed the fish aside and opened Katelyn's hand, sliding the slimy stone knife into it. "Now is your chance. Show me what a smart girl you are."

  Katelyn gripped the knife in her hand, whispering a quick prayer. She wondered what her father would think if he knew she was asking God to help her clean a fish. "Well, here goes," she mumbled. If I can survive an Indian raid, I can certainly clean a fish! She began to scrape at the skin, but the fish kept sliding across the board.

  "Here, slide your hand in here. It will give you a better grip." Won pushed her fingers into the fish's gills. "Isn't that better?"

  She could only nod and continue to scrape. Now what? The other side. When she finished scraping the scales, she glanced up at Won, who gave an encouraging nod. This was the test. If she could open the fish's belly without getting sick, she would be done.

  "Go ahead." Won smiled reassuringly.

  Katelyn slid the tip of the knife in at the tail end, amazed at how sharp the stone knife was. It was far sharper than the metal knives in her father's home!

  "Good. You learn well." Won was delighted with her pupil's progress. "Remove the insides and you're done." She clasped her hands in excitement.

  Katelyn squirmed when her hand touched the still warm, squishy strings, but she persevered until the flesh was clean.

  "You've done it right! And your first time. I've won the bet!"

  "What bet? I'm not finished yet." She caught her tongue between her teeth and sliced at the fish's head with the knife. She wasn't cooking any fish with the head still attached!

  "It was nothing. Mekollaan heard that I was coming to teach you how to clean fish and he bet me that you couldn't do it. He said that you would make such a mess of it that no one would be able to eat it but the dogs. But you did it, and now that she-hen owes me a new necklace."

  Katelyn smiled at Won's mirth. "Then I'm glad I helped you win. I don't like Hawk; he is an evil man."

  "No. He isn't evil. He has his own ideas and it is not easy to sway him. Behave and work well. His mind will be changed."

  "I don't care what he thinks! He's a horrible man. He attacked me the first night I was here."

  "I heard. But you should forget that. He meant no harm. We hear stories of what the whites are like. They are not always true. Hawk was just testing to see what you'd allow. What man doesn't with a pretty young girl?"

  "I am not pretty, and I'm not that young. Tell me how to
make these corn cakes. I'll show Hawk and his brother. They both think me daft just because I wasn't brought up the way they were."

  "Not young! Of course you are. What are you, twenty-two summers?"

  "Twenty-four."

  "You do not look like my people, but in your land I am sure that many men offered your father many horses and blankets to get you in their wigwam."

  "Certainly not! It is not our way to sell women!" Katelyn's eyes dropped. Not our way? Then why did no man come to call on me all those years? Why did I sit in the window watching others go to parties? Because I had no dowry. And why did Henry appear so quickly after her father's inheritance came through? She had been sold to the only bidder . . .

  "I see that you are one of those woman who doesn't know her worth. I've been told that whites don't have respect for their women like we do." Won stood up. "Where is your washing bowl?"

  "There." Katelyn pointed to the large pottery bowl that she had been instructed to keep full so that Tipaakke would always have clean water to wash with.

  Won dipped her hands into the water. "In our village, a woman is a precious thing. Here, we are the heads of our households. The children are ours, the wigwam is ours, and everything in it. If a woman wishes her husband to be her husband no more, she places his tools and weapons outside her door and announces that he is not her husband." She shook her hands to dry them. "When a man marries, it is into this wife's family. It is he who must deal with another mother. I like being a woman among the Lenni Lenape. Men do nothing but hunt, war, and give us children." She laughed. "I like being a woman because I like the power." She raised a clenched fist.

  Katelyn rinsed her hands, too. Women with power? Here I would have the right to make my own decisions. No, you've forgotten, Kate. You're not one of them; you'll never be. You're a prisoner. Take things one day at a time. You may not be here tomorrow.

  "Now I will show you how to make corn cakes, and then we'll cook them. Stir up the fire so that it will be ready." She pointed to the smouldering ashes near the wigwam. "Tolaala and I have been tending Tipaakke's fire, but now you will care for it. In the summer we keep our cooking fire outside, but in the winter it is in the wigwam."

  "That's what the hole in the roof is for!"

  "That's right. You're not dumb. You must keep the fire going at all times. During the day you can cover it with damp leaves, it will smoke some, but will not go out."

  Katelyn took a seat beside Won, determined to learn all she could from her. It didn't matter that Won was different. If she had the patience to teach her, she was going to learn. Each day that she learned and carried out more tasks properly, the more use she would be to Tipaakke. If he needed her, he wouldn't kill her. This would all be something she and Henry would sit around the fire in the parlor and laugh about someday.

  Katelyn concentrated as Won taught her to mix the ground huskuiim with water and a bit of fat and to fry the flat, little apoon cakes on a heated rock. They then wrapped the fish in damp, green leaves, after sprinkling herbs from a bag of them, and buried the bundle in the hot coals.

  "There. You have learned well today." Won patted Katelyn on the back. "Ameen, buumska!"

  The dark-haired boy appeared from the wigwam, bringing Tipaakke in tow.

  "I told your son that I can't take him hunting, but he won't listen. He says he will spot the animals, and I will shoot in the direction he tells me!" Tipaakke laughed, tousling Ameen's hair.

  Katelyn suddenly realized he was speaking in English. It had to be for her benefit, but why? He'd never spoken to another Indian in English before.

  "How has she done, Won?"

  Won began tucking her cooking utensils into the reed baskets, a smile crossing her wide face. "Wait, you will see. I like her, this white girl. I have her to thank for a new necklace." She glanced back at Katelyn, giving her a wink.

  Katelyn giggled, happy to be in on the joke.

  "You must have had a good day. She is giggling like a maiden with her first man." His voice was light and playful.

  "I'll be back tomorrow. Enjoy your meal, Tipaakke. I'm glad to see that my herb balm has improved your mood. Where is that boy? He's as slippery as an eel!"

  "There he goes, Won." Katelyn pointed across the village. "There, petting the dog."

  Won swung the two bags over her shoulder and headed in the direction of her son.

  When the fish was baked, Katelyn led Tipaakke back outside the wigwam and sat him down. She unwrapped the fragrant meat carefully and divided it, placing the larger portion on a small square board and pushing it into Tipaakke's hands.

  "Smells good."

  Katelyn lifted the corn cakes from the hot stone and dropped them onto his board and hers, licking her burnt fingertips.

  "Here are your corn cakes . . . huskuiim apoon."

  Tipaakke nodded, taking note that she had spoken her first Lenni Lenape words. "They're good." He nodded his head. "Sit. Eat."

  Katelyn dropped onto the ground and pulled her wooden plate onto her lap. All of the work and concentration had made her hungry. "I've never cooked anything like this before. The food we ate in England was quite different."

  "I heard you speaking to Won. I have eaten mutton. I wouldn't feed it to my father's dogs. Help me with this fish. I can't pick the bones."

  She got up obediently and sat down beside him, surprising them both. "Give me your plate."

  "Plate? Oh. Yes, you're right, girl. These are our plates. I hadn't thought of them that way. We eat mostly from shells, but I find it much easier to eat from this board."

  Katelyn picked his fish carefully, piling the clean meat on one side. "Here." She pushed the board onto his lap again. "The clean meat is here." Without thinking, she grabbed his hand and guided it to the meat.

  Lightning . . . Lightning passed between them. Neither could deny it.

  Katelyn stared into the sightless dark eyes. Those eyes haunted her when she tried to sleep at night. They were the eyes that she found herself searching for in the crowd of so many dark eyes.

  "I think I like this kind of help," Tipaakke teased softly.

  "Fox . . . "

  "Hush, girl. Enjoy the moment. Isn't it a wonder that a person can gain such pleasure from touching another's hand? Savor the moment, Katelyn. It doesn't happen often in a lifetime." He turned his hand so that it held hers.

  Katelyn could feel his breath on her cheek, he was so near. Yet, she didn't pull away, perhaps out of fear, perhaps because she knew she liked his touch.

  Tipaakke raised his other hands to caress her soft cheek. "I think I'll kiss you," he whispered, her warm lips guiding him near. "Sight is not always a necessary thing."

  "Please . . . " Katelyn caught her breath as his lips met hers, softly, briefly . . . teasingly.

  "Sins of flesh . . . " her father whispered across the ocean. "Filthy heathens!" Henry echoed.

  She pulled away, shaken. She had let him kiss her. "Eat. It will grow cold." Her heart pounded.

  Tipaakke nodded. He didn't know what had possessed him to kiss her, but he was glad he did. There was no denying his desire for the white girl. He just didn't understand it. "This is good, too." He spoke lightly, trying to calm her. "You've done a good job. From now on you'll cook all of the meals. Won will teach you more. I like fish, but I couldn't eat it every day."

  When they had finished the meal, Katelyn scraped the boards clean and rinsed them with fresh water. After stoking the fire, she stepped into the wigwam and retrieved the spare dress Tolaala had brought her the morning before.

  "Where are you going?" Tipaakke sat just outside the wigwam door.

  "To take a bath." What right did he have to ask her? He'd promised she could come and go as she pleased. "You said I could go to the stream as often as I wished." She spoke slowly, her lips tight with anger.

  "Yes, go ahead. You wouldn't be foolish enough to wander off." He stood up, groping for the door. "Let me get a clean loin cloth. I'll go, too. You can help me with my bath."
>
  "Help?" Katelyn choked. "Help you bathe? I think that ball in your head has made you crazy. If you think I'm going to . . . "

  Tipaakke ducked into the wigwam before she could finish, smiling mischievously.

  Chapter Four

  "If I were the captive, I'd hold my tongue, girl."

  Katelyn's eyes narrowed. Was he joking? She couldn't be sure. Was there a hint of a smile? "But if you were my prisoner, I wouldn't ask you to give me a bath," she dared.

  Tipaakke laughed, enjoying her wit. Not many could find humor in her situation. "Perhaps the enemy and his prisoner could bargain . . . if the enemy wished." He leaned against the frame of the wigwam.

  "Perhaps."

  "Ameen can take me to the woods. But you—" he pointed. "You will take me to the stream. A path leads to the water. As long as you keep to the path I should be safe."

  He knows I have no choice. She nodded. "All right."

  "Good. Now, come." He extended a hand. "Take the poor blind man to bathe."

  Katelyn hesitated. Each time she touched him, she felt herself slipping further. He's cast a spell over here. She wanted to touch him again and again. Henry must rescue her in time, not only from the Indian, but from herself. Looping her arm in his, they set out across the village.

  "Why were you in that wagon with the coward?" Tipaakke's voice was softly inquisitive.

  Katelyn's eyes drifted from the giant maples and oaks that towered above them. "Why do you care?"

  "I don't. I am curious. You don't have to tell me."

  "I know I don't."

  "I've warned you. Watch your sharp tongue. You are still my prisoner. Your life is mine to do with as I wish."

  She stopped abruptly, turning to study the chiseled bronze face. "I'm not likely to forget that, am I!" She inhaled sharply. "Come on." She tugged on his arm. "How dare you call Henry a coward. We were to be married . . . " Mentally, she counted the days that had passed since her capture. " . . . in four days."