"Is it me or my loving that you find funny?"
Katelyn's eyes flew open and her heart fluttered. She stared at the bronze face. "It was nothing. Something Won said." Her voice was hesitant.
Tipaakke's hand came to rest on the edge of the deerskin that covered her breasts. His fingers brushed lightly to and fro as he shifted positions, his arm still around her. "So what is to be done now, my beautiful slave?"
"Done?" Katelyn stared at the ceiling of the wigwam, counting the seams.
"You know what I mean. You care for me. You cannot deny it. Do you still want to return to your people?"
"I don't know what I want to do, Fox." She chewed her bottom lip nervously.
"I don't know if I would let you go if you wanted to."
"I know . . . "
Silence stretched between them as they both introspected on their own situations. Finally, Fox broke the awkward spell.
"Nothing has to be decided yet. There is the winter. We will go to the cabin before the snow falls. In the spring, we will decide. I need you now." He ran his fingers through her tangled hair, wishing he could see its brilliance in the late morning sun.
Katelyn nodded, swallowing hard. He wasn't going to make things easy for her. The thought of spending the winter with him excited as much as frightened her. She could imagine quiet evenings in front of a fire wrapped in Fox's arms. But she could also see the snow flying and the creeks freezing. Would they be able to survive a winter in the isolated cabin? How would they eat? Would she be able to care for him? What if someone got sick? Katelyn shuddered inwardly. It would be better if they just spent the winter here. With Hawk bringing game and Won helping with the cooking they'd be fine. But she knew there was no sense in thinking about it. Fox had made up his mind. She was leaving, willing or otherwise.
As the autumn leaves draped the land in fiery brilliance, Katelyn and Tipaakke prepared for their journey. Though they would hunt and trap for meat, their staples had to be packed along with the necessary cooking utensils and hunting implements. Katelyn spent most of her time with Won, packing Fox's belongings in bags and baskets, and trying to absorb all Won told her. Katelyn was constantly amazed by the advanced methods the Indians used to dry and preserve food. If the trapping went well, she and Fox would have enough food to last even the harshest of winters.
When the cool evenings came Katelyn and Tipaakke retired to their own world on their sleeping platform. Many nights she just lay in his arms savoring his strength, trying to come to terms with her feelings. She wasn't an Indian, she didn't belong here. But where did she belong? Certainly not with Henry.
Other nights, Katelyn crawled into Tipaakke's arms, wanting him to make love to her. She didn't understand her desire for him, nor did she quite accept it. Each morning she would rise, telling herself she must flee. She must escape from him before it was too late. But each night she could put up no resistance. She reached out to him like a child reaches for a forbidden sweet. For the first time in her life someone wanted her, someone needed her. How could she deny herself that pleasure?
If only Fox would say he loved her, then she could have accepted her love for him. But no words of love passed his lips. Desire and need should have been enough for her. But they weren't. Like a child, she was greedy. She wanted to be loved by him, too.
As the days passed, Katelyn found herself almost eager to leave the Indian camp. She needed time to think. Though the Indians were kind, making no judgement upon her, her face burned with shame. Everyone knew that they weren't married, yet they shared a sleeping mat. And she knew it was wrong, even if they didn't.
On the morning that they were to begin their journey, Katelyn rose early, stretching catlike as she slipped from beneath the bedfurs into the chilly morning air. She pulled a soft leather dress over her naked body and sat on the edge of the sleeping platform to slide on her knee length moccasins. They were a gift from Won. Katelyn fingered the beaded seams. A great deal of time and caring had gone into making these moccasins. Won had been so good to her from the beginning. It would be hard leaving her and Ameen, especially when she couldn't honestly say if she'd ever be back. These Indians were the first people who had ever cared about her. Was she foolish to consider leaving them? She snapped the leather thongs, lacing them awkwardly. A firm hand reached from beneath the covers to fondle the small of her back.
"You're up early." Tipaakke stroked the soft leather absently, imagining the pale skin beneath it.
"I still have things to do. We're out of drinking water and I've got to borrow Won's mush pot. I packed ours." Ours . . . the word tasted funny on her tongue. She'd never had anyone to share anything with before Fox.
"There is time. We will leave when you're ready."
Katelyn stood up, not wanting to feel his caress. "I know, but we might as well get started as soon as possible. Ameen said the Shaman says the snow will fall in a matter of days."
Tipaakke rolled onto his back, tucking his hands behind his head. "You've done well making things ready to go, . . . just as any good Lenni Lenape woman would have done." He grinned waiting for the sparks to fly.
"I'm not an Indian and I have no intention of becoming one! You think you're so funny! Well, you're not! She pulled a porcupine-tail brush from a basket and began to jerk it through her hair, parting it to braid.
"No? Deerskin dress, proper moccasins . . . and I think I heard the swish of braided hair last night when you prepared our meal."
Katelyn threw the brush through the air knocking him soundly in the head. "You just wait, Fox," she threatened. "One of these days I'm going to lead you into the woods and I'm going to leave you. And I'm never coming back."
"I'll follow you," he teased.
"Not if I take your moccasins, you won't!" She strutted out of the wigwam without another word.
Tipaakke laughed. Won must have told her the Indian tradition of removing children's moccasins to keep them from wandering into the woods. Whether she knew it or not, she was thinking more like a Delaware everyday. He smiled, getting up. The winter was certainly going to be interesting. Between her temper and her passion he had no need to worry about the cold.
Tipaakke's laughter rang in her ears as she made her way across the compound. She hated him! He made fun of her, he teased her, he baited her. She should just keep walking, never turn back. They would never be able to get along. So why did she love him?
Katelyn eyed the short-legged pony suspiciously. Here they were, finally ready to go when Hawk had come leading this black-and-white-spotted pony. She tugged on Tipaakke's arm. "I thought you said we were walking . . . "
"We are. But Father has given Uiil Tahuun to you as a gift. Get on. Father doesn't give gifts."
Katelyn stole a glance at the old chief who stood in front of his wigwam. Why did he want to give her a gift? And if he had to, why a horse? She and these four-legged creatures had never gotten along. "I'd rather walk."
"Katelyn, get on her. It is a great honor to receive a gift from a chief."
"I thought you said he doesn't give gifts."
"He never has before. You must show your respect by accepting." Tipaakke's voice was urgent. "Get on now, Katelyn. This is not the time to cross me."
She released his arm and walked hesitantly towards the beast. It certainly wasn't very big. The pony was covered with a blanket of sewn rabbit skins and wore a bitless bridle.
Mekollaan stepped forward to assist her. "Come, Katelyn." He grinned, enjoying her discomposure. "We are ready to go. Everyone waits."
She turned to look at the Indians who had come to say goodbye. Everyone in the village was there, young and old. Kukuus, the chief, had left the wigwam and was walking slowly in their direction.
"My father is coming. Get on, girl." Mekollaan gripped her arm, lifting her onto the hedging pony.
Katelyn gripped her steed's long mane, wrapping her fingers around and around the black and white strands. She had no intention of falling off right in front of the whole villa
ge.
Mekollaan caught the pack pony's bridle in his hand and clicked between his teeth, moving the pale-grey nag ahead.
Katelyn's pony stood where Mekollaan had left it. She waited for Fox, watching as Kukuus approached his younger son and threw his arms around him. She couldn't resist a smile. Never in her life had she seen her own father hug his son.
Tipaakke patted his father on the back, speaking in low tones. Together they made their way to Katelyn.
"My father is pleased that you have accepted his gift. He wishes us good will in the coming winter and say he will see us when the creeks thaw."
The grey-haired man spoke again, flashing even white teeth and patting Tipaakke on the back.
"He says he likes you. You are a brave woman to live so well among his people." Tipaakke paused, debating whether or not to repeat the rest of the message. His voice was halting. "He says he hopes you return in the spring. He thinks your magic hair would bring good spirits to his family's home." He did not tell her that Kukuus had said she would make a fine wife for his son.
Kukuus reached out to touch her hand, speaking again.
"He says you will do the right thing. You will know what is right."
Katelyn couldn't take her eyes off the kind man. She had never seen a face so wrinkled with time yet so bright with life. "Tell your father that I thank him for his gift and I will treasure it always." She gave him a soft smile.
Tipaakke repeated what she had said and Kukuus nodded, stepping back.
Tipaakke grasped Katelyn's foot, turned to nod to his father once more, and clicked to the horse, giving her a jab in her side with his knee. Together he and Katelyn left the village, following Mekollaan who led the pack horse.
Katelyn turned back only once, and that was to catch a last glimpse of Won. Tears were running down the Indian's broad cheeks. "Goodbye," Katelyn mouthed wordlessly, then turned back.
Once out of the village, Tipaakke took his place beside his brother, leaving Katelyn to trail behind on the short-legged pony. After a mile or so she grew used to the beast's stride and settled down to enjoy the beauty of the forest.
The woods sparkled magically as the morning frost thawed and ran in tiny rivers down the tall blades of grass. The fallen brown and orange leaves crunched beneath the pony's hooves as they headed northwest. As they traveled on, the sun on their backs, the forest became less dense. She knew that by morning they would reach the mountains.
Katelyn shivered, drawing her rabbit-skin cloak closer. Was she mad to be traveling into the wilderness with two Indians? She was certainly mad to intend to winter with one. Where had her sense of decency gone? Fox was not her husband and never would be. Henry had, at least, been willing to marry her. But was she meant to be the wife of a wealthy plantation worker, a prisoner in her own society? Or was she meant to be the prisoner of this soft spoken man, the first man who had ever showed her any true kindness? There was no love in either situation but at least she had a chance with Fox. Was Henry the kind of man to ever love anyone?
Tipaakke released his brother's arm and waited for Katelyn's pony to catch up. "You are quiet." He rested his hand on her knee and walked beside her.
"So are you."
He nodded, and together they walked on, both respecting the other's need to think.
Tipaakke fingered her leggings absentmindedly, wishing instead that it was her soft skin he stroked. He didn't know what was wrong with him. He was obsessed with her. He had only seen her for a few short hours, yet even in his sleep, he saw her fiery hair tumbling about her heart-shaped face. He couldn't eat, he couldn't sleep without thought of her. He listened for her footsteps, the sound of her sweet voice.
What was Manito doing to him? His sight had been taken from him, but he had been given Katelyn. Still, she was just a white woman; she was just a slave. She would be better off with her own kind. But how could he send her back to that coward? He knew enough of the white man's ways to know what her life would be like with him. Women to the white men were treated no better than their dogs. She would be brushed and combed for appearance sake, but behind doors she would be kicked and cajoled. She would give birth to child after child until it killed her and then Henry Coward would marry again and start all over.
Was this what he wanted for his Katelyn? Wouldn't she be better off with him? But how could a blind man care properly for a wife. He couldn't hunt, how would he feed a family? Besides, she could never love him. She hated him. The differences in their society's were too great.
A family . . . children . . . Tipaakke groaned inwardly. He had completely forgotten. Won was supposed to give him the powders that would keep Katelyn from growing with child. They had been giving them to her since the first week she had arrived, even before they had made love. But he had forgotten and Won had too. Was this planned by the Heavenly Manito, too? If his seed became planted within her, he could not give her up. It would not matter if she wanted to return to her people or not. She would have no choice. But was he really going to give her that choice in the spring? He didn't know.
Katelyn looked down at her brave. His face was pensive. She liked Fox's winter dress. He wore short leather walking moccasins, she herself had sewn extra soles into, and long leather leggings that went from his ankles to his upper thighs. He wore a white man's muslin shirt and a beautiful cloak of joined fox skins. Like herself, he wore his cloak over one shoulder and pinned beneath the other arm. In his hair he wore a fox tail, tiny shell earrings in his ears, and a necklace of smooth stones around his neck. He made a stirring picture in her mind with his long dark hair fanned over the brilliant rust of the fox coat. He was magnificent.
Without thinking, she reached down to run her hand over his sleek head. His hair was always so sweet smelling and freshly washed. Her stepmother could have used a lesson from him in personal cleanliness.
Tipaakke turned to her, his sightless eyes unblinking. "Have you grown bold now that we have left my people?"
"I think I was pretty bold in your wigwam last night . . . " Her heart fluttered as an air of sexual tension clung to them.
"Last night!" He laughed, his voice ringing in the crisp morning air. "And this morning too. You will wear me out, girl!"
"Hush. Your brother will hear you. Why is it that you only raise your voice when I don't want you to?"
"You think he doesn't know what we do in our wigwam?" He brushed the inside of her thigh lightly with his fingertips.
Katelyn rolled her eyes in exasperation, shifting on the pony. His fingertips were stirring a tiny fire deep within her. "I know he knows, but have you no decency? You don't talk about such things."
"You don't talk about what is good in our lives?" He shrugged his shoulders. "We do what all other Indians do in their wigwams at night."
"Fox, that's enough."
"I would even think that white men do the same thing in their . . . "
"Fox! Why do you embarrass me like this?" A blush stained her cheeks crimson. He's looking; you know he can hear us."
"She is wrong, Tipaakke. I can't hear a word you say," Mekollaan quipped in perfect sing-song English.
Katelyn began to giggle, then laugh, Tipaakke joining in. She didn't know what had gotten into her. She should have been deathly embarrassed . . . ashamed. But all she could do was laugh.
Mekollaan slowed the pack animal down, waiting for them. "I think your woman is possessed by some spirit, brother." His voice, for once, was without malice towards her.
"I think you are right."
Katelyn just laughed harder, tears trickling down her cheeks.
"Could it be that the spirit of the fox has entered her?" Mekollaan pretended to be serious.
"A blind fox . . . " Tipaakke added, tugging a strand of Katelyn's hair playfully.
Mekollaan chirped to his pony and moved ahead of them once again, chuckling to himself. Perhaps he'd judged the girl too harshly. She had a good sense of humor. He liked a person who could laugh at himself.
The
rest of the morning passed leisurely. They continued at a steady pace, Tipaakke spending equal time walking with Katelyn and his brother. The three laughed together, enjoying the warmth of the bright sunshine and the companionship of each other. Katelyn joined in the brothers' conversations hesitantly, surprised by their depth of knowledge of so many things.
"Hey, you two," Katelyn called. "I don't know about you, but I'm hungry." She slid off the pony carefully, catching the reins in her hands and walked along beside her.
"You want to stop? How can you be tired? You have done nothing but ride. With you dressed like that, I forget you aren't an Indian." Mekollaan slowed down to let her catch up.
Katelyn started to answer him in the usual biting tone she used with Hawk, then realized he was just teasing. "Tell your brother that if he doesn't shut his mouth, I'll stuff something in it." Her voice was playful.
Fox began to repeat her message in a falsely effeminate voice. "The lady says . . . "
"I heard her!" Mekollaan whistled to his grey pony which came to a halt. "I'll stop because I need water, and the ponies need some, too. I do not stop because the white woman commands me."
Katelyn pulled back on her pony's bridle to stop her, but she walked on. "Hey! How do I stop this thing?"
The pony walked around Tipaakke and Mekollaan and continued down the deer trail, ignoring Katelyn's protests. The men watched with amusement.
"Help me!" She pulled fiercely on the reins, running to keep up.
The two brothers began to laugh as Katelyn and the pony disappeared behind a huge pine.
"Tipaakke, I think your woman has decided to go on without us." Mekollaan dropped the reins on the pack pony and followed Katelyn.
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