Forbidden Caress

by Colleen French

  "I love you, wolf-woman." Tipaakke pulled away. He could have kissed those lips forever. "Go. Go swiftly."

  A sob escaped Katelyn's lips as she pressed her mouth to his once more. And then she was gone, disappearing into the forest's cloak of darkness.

  Once she was gone, Tipaakke turned his mind from her. She was in Manito's hands now. She would make it back, he knew it. Now he had to take care of the Mohawks. Quickly, he moved around the campsite, making it obvious that they'd been there. Then, he adjusted the brush where Katelyn had entered the forest. He was hoping that the Mohawks would be in such a hurry, they would pick up the obvious tracks and follow him.

  The hair rose on the back of Tipaakke's neck as he made his way down an old deer path, leading east. He knew the Mohawks had to be near. He could smell their evil, black hearts. Picking up his pace, he ran with his head thrown back. When he covered a good distance, he would leap off the path, into a tree and drop onto the ground in the forest. Then, he would return to the campsite, remove his moccasins and follow the deer path to the east again, walking beside his original tracks. Hopefully, the Mohawks would assume from the faint tracks that one of them had lost their moccasins. By the time they reached the end of the footprints and realized they'd been tricked, Tipaakke would be gone. He might even be able to catch up with Katelyn!

  At first, after Katelyn left Tipaakke, she ran wildly, ducking and dodging the low-lying branches as she made her way south. But then, as her headdress became heavier, she realized that she would have to pace herself. She would never make it to the village if she pushed herself too hard. The forest was a dangerous place for a lone traveler—and even more dangerous at night. But she was going to make it. She knew it. She was going to reach the village and wait for Fox. He might even get there ahead of her!

  With that thought in mind, Katelyn walked well through the night. She thought of all the good times she'd spent with Fox in the cabin and dreamed of the days to come with him. Looking up into the sky, Katelyn tried to figure the time. How long had she been walking? Was Fox safe? Had the plan worked? She stopped to drink from a small running brook. Maybe at this very moment, she thought, Fox is drinking from another brook, safe and far from the Mohawks.

  As the bright pinks of dawn began to peak above the woodsline, Katelyn began looking for a safe spot to rest. That all-too-brief nap she'd had earlier in evening had not been enough. She was near exhaustion again and she had to rest if she was going to make it to the village safely. Cutting off the deer path, she wandered through a thicket of ink berries and through a grove of ancient cedars. Just ahead, she spotted a huge fallen log. The tree, rotted by time and eaten by termites was the perfect place to hide. Fox would be proud of her when she told him about it!

  Laying the headdress inside the hollow of the log, Katelyn crawled inside and tried to draw back the brush as best she could. Snuggling deep within the folds of the soft cloak, she slept dreamlessly.

  Tipaakke steadied himself on the low branch, crouching to remain unseen. The Mohawks had been closer than he'd thought. He'd barely started on the second set of footprints when the scouts had reached their campsite. He reached down to retie his moccasins. There'd been no time to run after he'd finished the tracks, they would have heard or smelled him for sure. Besides, he wanted to be sure they didn't backtrack and go after Katelyn. Apprehensively, he waited in the tree, listening as the Mohawks drew closer. Good, Tipaakke thought. There are only two of them, if he had to, he could kill them both. He cursed silently for his lack of a knife. But the Mohawks had taken his and Katelyn's when they'd been captured. There'd been no way to steal one. He would have to kill them with his bare hands.

  When the Mohawk scouts reached the point where the tracks mysteriously ended, there was a great hooting and hollering. They were burning mad. Though Tipaakke could only understand part of what they said, he could tell from his perch in the tree that they were mad enough to kill.

  When the Indians turned back to retrace their steps, Tipaakke dropped silently to the ground and began to follow them. He hoped they were just going to return to the group and move north, but he had to be sure.

  When the two Mohawks reached the campsite, they began to mill around. From the brush, Tipaakke watched, trying to make out their words. When they began to survey the bushes and got down on their knees to look at the grass, Tipaakke knew he was in trouble. They were searching for the true direction their captors had gone. They must have been sent by their leader to bring back him and Katelyn . . . dead or alive.

  Without thought, Tipaakke rushed at the closest Mohawk, screeching as he knocked him to the ground from the rear and wrestled him over. Twisting the knife from the startled Mohawk's hand, he plunged it into his chest. Yanking the knife from the dying man's body, he tried to leap to his feet to take on the other Mohawk, but one foot was trapped beneath the dead man. He looked up just in time to see the war axe coming for his head. And then there was blackness . . .

  Waking just before the sun was high in the sky, Katelyn drank from her bag, ate a few dried berries, and made her way back to the deer path. She knew she was taking her chances, traveling down the path, rather than through the open forest, but it was too difficult for her to make her way through the dense spring foliage. Until she reached the point where she thought she should head east, she would have to take the gamble and pray Tipaakke's trick worked.

  As the late afternoon came, Katelyn's spirits began to drag. The novelty of the fear of being caught had worn off, the mosquitos were vicious, and she was afraid the path was leading her in the wrong direction. Squinting into the sun, she made a decision. It was time to turn east. It would be slower moving, but maybe she'd find another deer path leading in the right direction. Maybe she'd even find a road; she knew she had to be getting close to the white man's civilization. Tipaakke had told her that often roads were often made on the paths that the deer and Indians had traveled on for many years.

  So, chewing on the last piece of dried venison she had, Katelyn stepped off the path and headed east. To her dismay, the sky was beginning to darken. The squirrels in the trees were chattering madly and the rabbits were scurrying everywhere. Heavy black clouds gathered and the wind picked up, making her thankful she still carried the burdensome wolf headdress. As she forced her way through a patch of green briars, she noted the change in the air, realizing that her ears were suddenly snapping and popping. That was how the animals had known a storm was brewing. Keeping her eye out for some sort of shelter, she quickened her pace, turning her face to catch the first light splashes of rain.

  How am I going to get out of this? she asked herself miserably. The sky answered with a deafening rumble as a bright jag of lightening streaked across the sky. The rain began to pelt Katelyn's face in earnest as she trudged on, doubting she would find any shelter here.

  Up in the mountains there had been plenty of nooks and crevices in the rock to take shelter, but here, there was nothing but thousands of miles of great forest. Thinking of warm shelter, Katelyn smiled, remembering the night she'd spent with Tipaakke in an abandoned bear cave. They had tracked a deer for miles and when it had begun to rain, just as it was now, Tipaakke had taken her to a cave he had played in as a child. They spent the night together before the fire, telling stories and making love until dawn. Katelyn shivered, pulling the hide of the headdress closer. What she wouldn't have given to be safe in that cave with Fox right now.

  As darkness overtook her, Katelyn continued to move on, soaked and miserable. After she'd tripped and fallen twice, she brushed the wet leaves from her hands and face and knelt to bend back the branches of a young sapling. She had to get some rest. Crawling under the make-shift roof of branches and leaves, she huddled under the meager protection and drifted into a fitful sleep.

  When she woke at dawn, it was still raining. Soaked and stiff from sleeping on the wet ground, Katelyn felt worse than she had the night before. She was cold and tired and she couldn't stop shivering. But she knew she had to
go on. She had to find the village.

  It was mid-morning when James Carter spotted the Indian wearing the ceremonial headdress walking down the narrow dirt path. That's odd, he thought as he adjusted the brim of his leather hat to keep the rain off his face. Why would an Indian be traveling one of our roads? They usually try to keep as far away from us as they can. His hand slid to the flintlock on the wagon beside him. Maybe the Indian wasn't alone. He kept his eyes peeled, peering cautiously into the woods as he moved closer to the lone figure. He could see now that something was wrong. Was he sick? Hurt? Or was this some kind of Injun trick? James tightened his hand on his gun. But when he came up on him, he could see the man wearing the wolf's head could barely walk. He was swaying back and forth, his head rolling and his shoulders drooping. James wondered for a moment if he should stop or just move on. He didn't owe any Injun anything.

  Katelyn never heard the wagon until it was right on top of her. She turned, startled by the sound to see the smooth haunches of a bay. Was she hallucinating? There weren't any horses in the forest . . . She blinked, confused by the fever that raged in her body and reached out to stroke the wet hair.

  "Morning." James paused. He'd met plenty of Indians since he'd come to the Colonies, but he still didn't know quite how to handle them. They were an odd lot in his mind. He waited for the rain-drenched figure to answer.

  Katelyn turned slowly to gaze at the man sitting on the wagon, dressed in oiled rain gear and wearing a wide-brimmed, leather hat. "Good morning," she answered, her voice distant. She felt as if her body was floating. She watched the man through a long tunnel of confusion. Was he real, or was he a dream?

  "You speak English? Good." He nodded nervously. "Mighty poor day to be walkin'. Good for tobacco though." He watched the Indian closely, waiting for him to speak. But he said nothing, continuing to pat the horse. James cleared his throat. "Can I help you in some way?" He felt a little foolish addressing the wolf head. The Indian's face was completely masked by it.

  Katelyn looked up. "Yes, I'm looking for a Lenni Lenape village near here. But I don't know where it is." She tugged at her cloak.

  This is no Indian, James thought. That's a woman's voice! A white woman! He wrapped the reins around the brake and leaped to the ground. Why hadn't he noticed the dress beneath the cloak to begin with?

  "You see, my husband . . . well, he's not really my husband . . . not yet." She lifted her hand to wipe her face. She was so confused. She wanted the man to help her find Fox, but she didn't know how to explain it. She couldn't remember the words.

  "Your husband . . . Ma'am?" James reached out to steady the swaying woman. "You're not making sense, Ma'am." He stared at the dark brown eyes and heart-shaped face beneath the headdress. She didn't look much like a white woman, but she sure talked like one. "Are you sick, Ma'am?" He gripped her arm tightly.

  "If you could just give me a ride. Just for a while." Spots of darkness flashed in front of her eyes as she tried to focus on the concerned face beside her. "Then I can walk again. I have to get back. The Mohawks, you see they . . . " Her voice trailed off into silence. He didn't seem to understand what she was saying.

  "Ma'am, I think you'd better ride with me apiece." He turned her around and guided her to the side of the wagon. "Are you hurt anywhere?"

  "No." She shook her head, smiling weakly. "Not hurt. Just tired. So tired. Cold . . . so cold in the forest today." She leaned heavily against him.

  Steadying her, James jumped onto the wagon and reached down to help her up. "Don't worry, Ma'am. I got a place not too far from here. The wife will get you warmed right up. A little food and a fire will do wonders for you. Then we'll talk." He settled her down on the seat beside him and picked up the reins. "Get up, Bess," he commanded. As the wagon lurched forward, the girl slumped over on the seat.

  Katelyn woke slowly to the sound of a crackling fire and the smell of pork frying. As memory of the man in the wagon flashed in her mind, she shot straight up in bed. She had to keep moving. She couldn't be laying in bed! Bed? What bed?

  "Good morning to you. Feeling better?"

  Katelyn glanced quickly around the one-room cabin, her eyes coming to rest on a plump young girl. "Where am I?" She slid her feet to the floor noticing that she wore a simple white nightgown.

  "I'm Pris Carter. My husband brought you here yesterday." She flipped the fat slice of pork over, and it crackled and spit in response. "We're beginning to think you'd never wake up." She wiped her hands on her apron and moved to the simple pine table in front of the huge fireplace.

  "You mean I've been here since yesterday?" Katelyn stood up, clutching the frame of the rope-bed for support. Her knees were weak and her stomach was queasy. "Where are my clothes? I can't stay here. I've already wasted precious time." She moved to the table.

  "That wolf thing is hanging in the barn drying, but the dress couldn't be saved. All torn up it was. How long were you out there in that woods?" She reached for a pitcher and poured a tankard of rich white milk. "Drink. It's good for the child." She motioned to Katelyn's round stomach, obvious beneath the thin nightgown.

  Katelyn reached for the pewter cup and took a big gulp of the sweet, warm stuff, licking the foam from her upper lip. "I thank you and your husband for caring for me, but I really must go. Could I have my dress and my moccasins?" She put the empty cup on the table hoping Pris would offer her another. How long had it been since she'd had a meal?

  "We burned the Indian dress. It told you it was too torn up to wear. All of your possibles hanging out the way they were." Pris shook her head, crossing to the fireplace to check the frying meat again. "There's a dress there you can put on." She pointed to the end of the bed Katelyn had just gotten out of. "Better get it on. James and the boys'll be in shortly."

  Katelyn stood for a moment in indecision and then threw up her hands in exasperation, going to get the dress. If she was getting out of here she'd have to wear something. She'd find her headdress in the barn on the way out. "Where're my bags? I've got to have the water bag." She slipped the nightgown over head, turning to speak as she did. Any modesty she'd once had was gone. It never even occurred to her that she should have asked for a more private place to change.

  Pris turned to answer and swung back around, a faint blush creeping across her cheeks. How long had that poor girl been with the Indians, she wondered. "Don't worry about those, Katelyn. They're out in the barn with the wolf thing." She reached for the pewter plates on the mantel, taking care to keep her back to her.

  "How do you know my name? I didn't tell your husband my name." Katelyn pulled the simple cotton dress over her head. She was glad Pris was larger than she was. The dress fit loosely and would be good for traveling. It would cover her growing stomach a little longer, too.

  When James and his two sons walked in, Katelyn was still waiting for an answer. Why was Pris looking at her so strangely?

  Katelyn walked to James and reached out to touch his arm. "How do you know who I am?" Like any Delaware, she came straight to the point. "What do you know about me?" Her soft brown eyes met uneasy blue ones.

  "Sit." He extended an arm. "Eat. Then we'll talk." He took his hat off his head, put it on a wall peg and slipped past her. The twin boys of five or six did the same, staring with clear blue eyes as they took their seats on the bench at the table.

  Katelyn stood with one hand on her hip watching the family pass the plates of steaming pork and biscuits. The aroma tantalized her senses as she considered her options. Something just wasn't right here. Should she make a run for it now? She watched one of the young boys take a bite of a biscuit, yellow butter running down his chin. Or, should she have her meal, get her things, and go? She took a step in the direction of the table. They certainly seemed harmless enough. After all, they had taken care of her since yesterday. She slid onto the bench beside the boys. Just one biscuit and a slice of pork and then she'd go . . . well, maybe two biscuits.

  "Tell me what you know about me." Katelyn spoke to James
with her mouth crammed with biscuit. It was so good!

  James stabbed at a bit of pork with his knife and pushed it into his mouth. "I know you've been through a lot. People don't survive being captured by Indians very often."

  "I was lucky." She took another biscuit from the plate and dipped into the butter crock with her knife. "There were others who didn't get away. My husband and I outsmarted them." She saw no harm in the small lie, he would be her husband soon. She looked up at Pris. "Do you think I could take a few of these with me?" She held up her fourth biscuit. "I can't pay you for them now, but once I reach the village, I'll send something back in return. My husband will pay you handsomely for caring for me."

  Pris glanced up at her husband, pushing a blond wisp of hair back off her face. The poor girl had been through so much, it was a wonder she had any sense at all.

  "Don't worry, you're safe now. There's probably no helping those others." James pushed his plate back. "We don't have much luck getting captives back."

  "No. I know where they're going. I can help." Katelyn got up from the bench, grabbing several biscuits and the last slice of pork. "If you could just give me my bags and robe, I'll go. I shouldn't have stayed this long." She watched as James' Adam's apple bobbed up and down. "Get my bags," she repeated.

  "Why don't you just sit down and rest. In your condition, it's a wonder you've survived. You're safe here. Someone will be here to get you soon." The farmer brushed back his chestnut brown hair, wishing there was more he could do for the girl.

  "Someone? Who?" She stuffed the biscuits and pork in the bodice of the dress and started for the door. "Who knows I'm here?"

  James stepped between her and the door. He just had to keep her here a little longer. "Calm down. You'll be fine."

  "Get out of my way," Katelyn ordered, glaring at him. "Move."