Forbidden Caress

by Colleen French

  Finishing with the water bags, Tipaakke laid them in the snow. "Now we will catch our evening meal. Listen and you will learn. Mekollaan said there were many rabbit tracks just around the bend in the stream, near a birch."

  "We're going to catch a rabbit?" Katelyn furrowed her brow doubtfully.

  "It's very simple. A child could do it. But first you must cut three sticks. Two this long." He spread his hands apart. "The last one this long." His hands moved closer together.

  She nodded. "That's easy." Stepping into the brush, she reappeared minutes later, carrying three sticks. Proudly, she handed them to Tipaakke.

  He ran his long tanned fingers up and down the sticks swiftly. "These are a little long, but we can snap them. Now lead me around the bend. You must search for the tracks. There will be a trail where rabbits come from the forest to the creek to drink."

  Leading him only a short distance, Katelyn spotted tracks in the snow. "Yes, you're right. I see them!"

  "Where?"

  "Right here." She moved him forward a few steps.

  Tipaakke squatted, handing the three sticks back to her. "You must learn to do this yourself. If something happened to me, you would have to remain here alone until my brother returned."

  Something snapped inside her. "If something happened? What do you mean? I couldn't stay here by myself." Her lip quivered. "We don't have enough dried food to last, I would starve to death."

  The muscles in Tipaakke's jaw tightened with impatience. "You would not starve because you would know how to snare rabbits. Do as I say and stop being childish. Nothing is going to happen to me, anyway." His tone was biting. "Cut a notch in the two longer sticks high enough so that once the sticks are in the ground, the notches will be above the rabbit's head. Remember," he added sarcastically, "you are trying to catch one, not provide a jump."

  Katelyn chipped at the sticks angrily. Why had he brought her here? What was wrong with him? She could never learn to trap or hunt. If something happened to him, she wouldn't have a chance. "There."

  "Give them to me."

  Katelyn slapped them into his hand and tucked her own hands back under her cloak. Her fingers were numb from the cold.

  "That will work." He nodded, running his fingers over the notches she cut in the branches. "Now look for a sapling close to the tracks, one that can be bent. It will act as the spring for the noose." He withdrew a length of woven string from under his fox cloak.

  Muttering under her breath, Katelyn set out in search of the right sapling. "Like this?" She grasped a bare stick no taller than herself.

  Coming to touch the sapling, he shook his head. "No. It must bend. This is too thick. I said it must bend," he finished sharply.

  Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "Maybe you should find one yourself," she said through clenched teeth.

  "No. You must do it. You must learn. Hurry, now. It's cold and we're not dressed properly. Find the sapling and we'll set the trap."

  "Here, how's this one?" She snapped it in front of his face, almost smacking him in the nose.

  Tipaakke snatched it from her and squatted on the rabbit trail. "Come here beside me." Fingering the sapling, he nodded. "This will do."

  "Good, because I'm not finding another."

  Ignoring her, he went on. "Now place the tall sticks across the rabbits' path and balance the shorter between them in the notches."

  Katelyn pushed the sticks into the ground slowly, drilling through the frozen earth, and balanced the other between them. "Now what?" she snapped.

  "Bend the sapling over, tie this noose on the end and let it fall over the crossbar."

  She did as she was instructed, only once knocking the crossbar from its supports. "There." She threw up her hands. "I hope it's right because I'm not doing it again."

  Tipaakke reached out to run his fingers lightly over the propped sticks. "The notches are high, but I think it will work," he said, coming to his feet. "The rabbit will come running down the path, knock the crossbar with its chest and the sapling will snap up, tightening the noose around its neck."

  "You've done this before?" Katelyn questioned doubtfully.

  "Many times, I told you. We have even caught deer in this manner, my brother and I."

  "Well, I'm going back to the cabin." She walked back to where the water bags laid and scooped them up. "It's too cold for me out here."

  Tipaakke followed her up the path they'd made to the door. "Put another log on the fire," he ordered. "I'm going to get my traps from the lean-to. Tomorrow you will take me along the creek to set them, then I will check them each day."

  "You'll check them? How are you going to do that?" she challenged.

  "I will count the steps, girl." His voice was equally sharp. "How else do you think I get from place to place?"

  Katelyn slammed the heavy hand-hewn door behind her in response.

  Tipaakke shook his head, feeling for the wall and following it around to the back. Perhaps this was a mistake. Maybe I should have stayed in the village. He reached the back wall and took the allotted steps to the lean-to where the pony was stabled.

  Tipaakke reached out to stroke the pony's velvety nose, crooning. "What do you think? Is Fox a fool, Uiil Tahuun?"

  The pony nickered softly.

  Tipaakke walked slowly to the far wall and reached for his traps. When his fingers met cold metal, he smiled. They were just where Mekollaan said he would leave them. Maybe his father was right. Maybe his fingers could become his eyes. Maybe there was hope. He wanted so much to believe that he and Katelyn could make it through the winter safely. He wanted to keep her warm and safe so that in the spring she would decide to stay with him always. Then he wouldn't have to make the decision himself.

  Katelyn dropped the water bags on the table and threw her cloak on the bed. She was fooling herself to think this was ever going to work. Catching rabbits with pieces of string! But how else were they going to get meat? She hadn't really thought about it before. She had assumed Fox would take care of that. It hadn't occurred to her that he would expect her to catch the game.

  Throwing a log on the fire, she slumped into one of the simple hand-hewn chairs. Resting her head in her arms on the table she held back the tears that threatened to spill over.

  Why had all of these terrible things happened to her? Why couldn't she have just married Henry and become the wealthy mistress of a tobacco plantation. Why was she out here in the wilderness with a crazy, blind Indian?

  They were probably going to starve to death. Mekollaan was right. When he returned in the spring he would find nothing but bones. But what could she do? She couldn't run . . . she had no idea where she was. And worse yet, she didn't know if she could leave Fox up here alone if she wanted to . . . So this is what I've gotten myself into with my silly ideas of romantic love. Fool! Fool! The words echoed in her mind.

  At the sound of the door latch, Katelyn pushed herself up and out of the chair.

  Tipaakke entered, the traps slung over his shoulder, and settled himself on the floor at the hearth. He said nothing.

  Ignoring him, Katelyn set out to do the cleaning necessary before she could unpack.

  For most of the afternoon they worked in silence, both caught up in their own doubts. When most of the baskets and bags were unpacked with the items on clean shelves, Katelyn went to put on her rabbit cloak.

  "Where are you going?"

  His voice startled her. "To . . . to check the snare. It's time I started a stew."

  He nodded, going back to oiling his traps.

  Katelyn stepped back into the cabin, closing the door with a thump and a rattle. She leaned against it heavily, her face an ashen white. "You said it would work. You said it was simple. You said a child could do it . . . " Her voice grew higher in pitch with each word.

  Tipaakke came to his feet, brushing long, dark locks aside. "What are you talking about?"

  "The trap, Fox. The snare. You said it would work but there wasn't a rabbit. It had sprung but there was
nothing there." She clasped her hands, blowing on them to warm them.

  "So we didn't catch one." He shrugged his shoulders. "Tomorrow we will get one."

  "Tomorrow? What if we don't? We're going to starve aren't we?" she asked desperately.

  Tipaakke laughed merrily. "Starve? When there are so many of Manito's creatures out there?" He laughed again, thoroughly amused.

  "It's not funny. Why are you laughing at me? I can't catch anything. I told you I couldn't. There's not enough dried food for the winter; you said so yourself." She reached out pleadingly.

  Tipaakke's eyes narrowed. From the sound in her voice, he knew she was serious. "Katelyn, you are being childish. People do not starve in the mountains where game is so abundant. We are Lenni Lenape." He hit his chest with his fist soundly. "Manito provides for us." He was growing impatient.

  "No, I'm not Lenni Lenape. I'm no Indian." She went to him, grabbing his linen shirt. She stared into the sightless ebony eyes. "I cannot live like this. You cannot live like this. We'll never make it."

  "Listen to me." He grabbed her shoulders, shaking her soundly. "You will stop this foolishness now. I told you we'd be fine. There will be plenty to eat. We will not starve." His voice was jagged with anger.

  "But you can't even catch one stinking rabbit!"

  "Me? I told you the notches were a little high." He released her but didn't move, his face remaining only inches from hers.

  "I hate you. You know I hate you," she whispered through clenched teeth. "I hate you for doing this to me. Why didn't you just kill me when you captured me? Why have you dragged me across half of this colony to let me starve to death in this cabin?"

  "Listen to yourself, Katelyn. Do you really think I would . . . " he stopped in midsentence. She is a hysterical child, he told himself. There is no reasoning with a hysterical child.

  Without another word he walked to the bed, flung his cloak over his shoulders and walked out the door.

  "Coward! Where are you going? Just kill me now!" Katelyn shouted as the door swung shut with a silencing thud.

  When Tipaakke returned from caring for Uiil Tahuun he found Katelyn preparing a stew over the fire in an old metal pot that hung on a bar at the hearth. He stood for a moment just inside the door knowing he must say something. He had let her get the best of him. She'd provoked him and he'd lost control. He had to make her understand that he would never let any harm come to her. He had to remember that no one had ever loved her. She didn't understand what it was to love and be loved. He would have to teach her.

  "Katelyn." He spoke quietly, his voice seeming to echo in the small room.

  "I made stew. Should I make corn cakes or should I save the meal?" She continued to stir with the barkless cooking stick.

  "We will be all right. I know you're afraid but you must trust me."

  "Why did you leave? Why can't you stand here and fight with me?" She swung around to face him, thick gravy dripping from the stick onto the floor.

  "It's not my way."

  "Well, it is my way! You've asked me to change in so many ways and you've made no effort to change at all. We're so different, Fox. This will never work."

  Tipaakke walked slowly to the table. "You are right. I have asked much of you." He ran his hand over his sleek head thoughtfully. "But know this. I would never let any harm come to you. I wouldn't have brought you here if I had thought you were in danger."

  "Not long ago you threatened to kill me if I didn't do as you said," she challenged.

  "Yes. But things were different then."

  "Would you?"

  "Not now, no. Then?" he paused. "Maybe."

  "I believed you. The only reason I didn't try to get away again was because I thought you would kill me." She planted one hand on her hip disbelievingly.

  "I know." He slipped into a chair, a wide grin on his handsome face. "That's why I didn't tell you."

  Katelyn turned to the stew, then back to Fox. "I didn't mean what I said about hating you . . . , but I could learn to, you know."

  "Hate is sometimes very close to love, my song bird."

  Tipaakke listened from the bed as Katelyn moved about the cabin, preparing to retire. In his mind he could see her long, fiery braids swinging as she walked. He could see the slight curve of her smile, the sparkle of her dark brown eyes. He noted how her footsteps had changed since she'd come to him. No longer did she walk like a white man, ambling without purpose, but rather she walked lightly with unspoken determination. Her movements were becoming more fluid-like, more graceful. Whether Katelyn Locke was willing to admit it or not, she was becoming more like Lenni Lenape each day.

  "Come to bed, my busy bee. I hunger for honey." Tipaakke stretched.

  "It's early yet." She leaned against the table, wiping it down with a bit of precious cotton. "I'm not tired."

  "Winter is the season for laziness." He propped himself up on one elbow. "Besides, who said anything about sleep."

  Playing the game, Katelyn ignored him, taking the wet pewter plates to the hearth to dry.

  Hearing the clink of pewter, Tipaakke sat up. "Do you like it here? I thought it would make things easier for you. Grandfather liked to come here and pretend he was white, I think. He built all of this, he and a trapper. The tables and chairs, the bed. If you look at the leg of one of those chairs you will find where a young boy gnawed at the wood with his axe. I don't know how the chair has stood all of these years."

  Katelyn smiled, thinking of a young Fox working to please the grandfather he loved so dearly. "I meant to ask you about one of these chairs. It's so rickety, I thought I'd use it for kindling when we run out."

  "When we run out you'll take my axe and chop kindling." He laughed, joining in on her joke. "Now come . . . " He reached out with one bronze hand.

  Katelyn turned to him, wiping her wet hands on her doeskin dress. She watched as the firelight danced across his taut, tanned chest, and she felt a stirring in her loins. He was as perfect as any of the wild creatures his god or hers had put on this earth. She walked to him slowly, pulling the leather ties from her hair so that she could loosen her braids. "Why do you do this to me," she questioned softly. "You know I'm weak."

  "It's not weakness, it's love," he replied in Algonquian.

  "You must teach me more of your language," she told him, coming to sit on the edge of the bed. "I want to know what you say in that low voice."

  Tipaakke ran his hand along her spine, his fingers kneading. "I tell you how beautiful you are. I tell you how much this man needs you." He pressed her to the bed, cradling her fall with one long sinewy arm.

  Her eyes fluttered shut of their own accord as his mouth met hers. "What else?" she murmured against his lips. "Tell me what else you say."

  "I tell you that when you touch me, I soar like an eagle in the sky." He reached up to brush her tender lips with his fingertips.

  Katelyn tightened her arms around his shoulders breathing in his heady scent. Her tongue flickered out to touch his fingers. "What else do you say?" She licked one of his long fingers, taking it in her mouth to suckle.

  "I say . . . " He caught his breath as her hand brushed against his thigh boldly. " . . . I say your laughter is a bubbling brook, your smile is the first bloom of spring." His head dropped to her breast as his hand explored beneath the doeskin dress.

  She brushed a long lock of sweet smelling hair from his cheek. "Your hair is so beautiful," she whispered, fingering it lightly. "I never thought a man's hair could be beautiful."

  "Beauty is where we see it. There is beauty in everything." He nibbled at the smooth leather that covered her breasts. "Can we take this off? I prefer your taste to the doe's."

  Sitting up, Katelyn pulled the dress over her head, squirming as Tipaakke wrestled her to the bed again. "Fox, my moccasins!" She giggled, running her hands through his hair as she guided his mouth to one rose-tipped breast.

  "Keep them, it's not your feet I'm interested in."

  "Fox! Get up! Look what we'
ve got! I got one! Katelyn raced across the floor to the bed, leaving the cabin door wide open. "I really got one!"

  Fox bolted upright, reaching instinctively for his stone knife beneath the sleeping pelts. But once he realized it was Katelyn's voice he heard, he relaxed, releasing the knife. "Katelyn!" He dropped back onto the bed. "The door!"

  "Sorry." She ran to shut it and was back in an instant. "Look what I got, a rabbit." She dropped the stiff body on his chest.

  He laughed, running his fingers through the soft fur. "You're right, it's a rabbit."

  "Fox . . . we caught it in the snare. I can't believe I caught one." She perched herself on the edge of the simple framed bed.

  "I'm glad you're so happy, but must I sleep with it?"

  Katelyn stuck her tongue out at him and scooped the rabbit off the bed, dropping it on the table.

  Tipaakke slid out from under a layer of soft pelts and reached for his shirt on the floor beside the bed. "It's still early isn't it?" He fingered the linen material, looking for the armholes.

  "I woke up early so I went to fill the water bags. When I got to the stream, I found the rabbit." She grinned, still pleased with herself, as she went to throw another log on the fire. "I set the snare again."

  "Don't be greedy. We can't eat more than a rabbit a day." He pulled his leggings on and tied them slowly.

  "I thought I would tan the hides and make a real dress with sleeves. It would be warmer. Won gave me two metal needles. Someone got them in a trade."

  "That's a good idea. It will give you something to do while I'm out checking my trap lines."

  She poured some meal into a bowl, adding water slowly to make gruel. "I thought I'd try making you a pair of breeches, too." She waited for his reply.

  Tipaakke raised one eyebrow. "Breeches?"

  "Yes. Breeches would be warmer than your leggings." She sprinkled a few dried berries over the hot meal.

  "But my people have always worn leggings." He turned to her. "Are you trying to turn me into a white man?"