Forbidden Caress

by Colleen French

  Katelyn's head popped up, the drawn look on her face disappearing in an instant. "Of course I can. What am I going to carry the bread and stew in, Won?" She chewed her bottom lip nervously. "I hadn't thought about that."

  "The stars are with you," Won replied. "Falling Rain found a basket yesterday on a step. It had little dogs in it, but he put them in the house." She crossed the clearing to search for the basket beneath a pile of leaves."

  Katelyn began to giggle. "He didn't!" Her hands flew to her cheeks, rosy from nervousness.

  Mekollaan refused to laugh. "The dogs must have belonged to the people who lived in the house."

  "He just pushed them in the door?" She tried to suppress her laughter, knowing Mekollaan didn't like silliness. "How many were there?"

  "Five, maybe six. Falling Rain did not count. He said they were brown dogs with white spots." He couldn't help, but grin. It was rather funny. Some poor white man would get up in the morning to find little brown dogs running around his house!

  Won handed Katelyn a small, woven-reed basket. "I will put the stew and bread in the basket. Take care not to tip it or the Fox's stew will be in the bottom." She picked up two square pieces of hide and used them to remove the hot pot from the open fire. "Bring back Won's cooking bowl. It was my mother's."

  Katelyn held out the basket for Won to pack. "Mekollaan, what if another Quaker comes while I am inside?" She was beginning to become uneasy. She was not so much concerned over getting into the jail and facing the jailors, as she was facing Tipaakke. What was she going to say? What was he going to say? Would he believe her? I will make him believe, she told herself.

  Mekollaan kicked at a pile of rotting leaves. "Two braves will watch from the end of the street, behind the drinking house. If one comes," he shrugged his shoulders, "my men will take her for a walk."

  "You won't hurt her?" Katelyn tightened her grip on her basket.

  "No, but we will have to keep her until the Fox is safe. We cannot let the white men know we are here or they will take my brother to another jail . . . or they will kill him now."

  With that thought, Katelyn sobered. "I am ready, Hawk." She bowed her head, preparing herself to play the part of the Quaker woman.

  "Do just as I have told you, Katelyn. Do not risk your life or Tipaakke's. You are only to get in, take him the food and get out. Do not try to get him out yourself." He stood in front of her, grasping her shoulders.

  "I just want to talk to him. I will give him the food and find out how the jail is laid out." She stared up at him. His eyes were so like Tipaakke's, yet different. "I will do it right; you can depend on me."

  When Katelyn and the Delaware braves reached the edge of the woods near Annapolis, they separated, as planned. The braves made their way to their designated spots on the street the jail stood on, and Katelyn entered town from the end where the Quakers lived.

  Slipping from behind a red brick house, Katelyn made her way down the paved walk. Past the houses she walked, keeping her head down. The brick felt cool on her bare feet as she took care to keep them beneath the long, grey skirt of the dress. Around the corner she went and down the main street. The tangy smell of the bay filled her nostrils as she passed a gentleman on the street.

  "Evening, Mistress," he called.

  "Evening," Katelyn replied, keeping her head down so he couldn't see her face.

  Turning to the right, she passed the Customs House. The jail was just a little further. Her heart pounded beneath her breast and she ran her hand over her round belly. It couldn't be hidden in the dress, but she and Won had decided it didn't matter. Even Quakers had babies.

  Up to the door she stepped, whispering a prayer. Slowly, she lifted her hand to knock, just as she had seen the other two women do before. The door swung open.

  "Evening to you, Mistress." A portly, red-faced gentleman in tight breeches stood in the doorway.

  Katelyn swung the basket. "Nourishment for the heathen." She kept her eyes averted.

  "Come in, careful of the step." He reached out to give her a hand.

  Katelyn stepped into a parlor-like room, furnished neatly with a table and stools and several straight-backed chairs along the wall. A desk took up one corner. To her left was a closed door. "Thank thee, kind sir," she murmured.

  The portly man stared at her. "I don't remember seeing you here before. He turned this way and that, trying to get a glimpse of her face.

  "I . . . I stay with my aunt and uncle, just for a few days, then I meet my husband and go home." She glanced sideways at the two men sitting at the table, cards in their hands.

  The man nodded his head. "Oh, who is your aunt and uncle?

  Katelyn froze. What should she say? She had to say something, he was waiting for an answer. "John and Sarah Goodgate." It was the only name she could think of; they were the Catholics that had lived near her father's church.

  "Funny, don't know them." He shrugged his shoulders. "But then they keep mostly to themselves. Don't see them much in the Cock and Bull." He laughed and the others joined in.

  Katelyn tried not to fidget. "I must take the food to the prisoner, then home for evening prayers." She tried to make her way past him, heading for the long hallway she assumed led to the cells.

  "No, that's all right Mistress. Let me take it for you." He slipped the basket off her arm before she could protest. "I can take it for you. You don't want to see that beast," he glanced at her protruding stomach, clearing his throat, "not in your condition."

  She tried not to panic. She had to see Fox. "No, I must take the bowl home to my aunt or she will be angry."

  "We got pots here and bowls. Bruce, get one of those bowls for the lady. She brought food for the Injun." He turned back to Katelyn. "Sure smells good, Mistress. You cook it yourself?" He caught a peek of her face beneath the dark bonnet. Fetching thing she was with those brown eyes Was that a tendril of red hair he saw?

  Katelyn's mind raced. They weren't going to let her see him! She had to do something. "If thou doesn't mind, sir, I would see the prisoner; give him some spiritual comfort." She took a step towards the hallway. She wouldn't come this close and not see him!

  "Well, if you want." The jailor carried the basket to the table, lifting the lid. "But he doesn't speak any English."

  She started for the cells. "The Lord speaks in all languages, sir," she called over her shoulder.

  Trembling, Katelyn shuffled down the narrow hallway. When she stepped into the room that held the cells she was shocked. These were horse stalls! There were two cells, built of thick timber side by side. The outside walls were brick, with wooden bars on the front and separating them. Immediately she caught sight of Tipaakke's dark head in the cell to the left. The right held a blond haired man who slept in a bed of straw in a crate hanging from the wall.

  "I have come to pray for you, sir," she said in her Quaker woman's voice. She moved to the front of his cell and grasped the wooden bars. His back was to her as he leaned on the back brick wall. Why didn't he turn around?

  "Maata! Maata Biindam!" His voice was sharp.

  "Kihiila," she whispered. "Yes, listen to me; you must."

  A chill ran down Tipaakke's spine, as he turned slowly to face her. His first reaction was to run to her, to press his body against the bars and wrap her in his arms. But he could not. He would not. She had betrayed him and his love for her. At first he said nothing; he just stared at her through half-closed eyelids. She was hauntingly beautiful in the dark garb, though he could see nothing but her pale, strained face. "Why do you come?" he asked coldly.

  "To speak to you, to bring you food, to make sure you're all right." She clutched at the wooden bars until her knuckles turned a deadening white. "We're going to get you out of here."

  "I want nothing from you." He eyed her round stomach. "Nothing but my child. Send my brother. I will take no help from you." He turned his back, unable to look at her.

  "Fox, please," she pleaded. "I have only a few minutes." She reached out with
one hand through the bars. "You must listen to me, you must let me make you understand."

  "I do not want to hear your lies." He felt as if his heart was being wrenched from his chest. "Just go."

  "No, I won't go." Tears ran unchecked down her flushed cheeks. "I love you. You have to listen to me." She was beginning to grow angry with him. "You owe me that much!"

  Tipaakke spun around in fury. "I owe you nothing!" He took three long strides across the straw-strewn floor. "I gave you all I had, and you gave me betrayal in return." He shook his head. "I owe you nothing white woman."

  Tears stung Katelyn's eyes. She had to make him listen! She had to make him understand! When he turned to walk away she grabbed a hunk of his hair, without thinking. Snapping his head hard, she pulled her hand back through the bars, taking his hair with it.

  "Ow!" he cried. "Let go of me!" He grabbed his hair with his own hand, trying to ease the tension.

  Tipaakke's hair felt smooth and silky beneath her touch. "Now you listen to me," she ordered through clenched teeth. "What kind of man will not listen to another? Things are not always as they seem." She twisted his hair around her fingers, holding him tight against the bars. "Certainly a man who was about to become the High Chief of his people would not be a man who judged before he heard the facts."

  Tipaakke swallowed hard. Suddenly he felt rather foolish. Why had he been so quick to jump to conclusions; that was so unlike him. She was right, he owed her a chance to explain. "Gekiitte. Speak. Fox will listen." His voice was soft.

  Katelyn let go of his hair, but he remained pressed against the bars. "I'm sorry I hurt you," she whispered, this time reaching to stroke his head. "After we parted, I became lost, it rained and I caught a chill. I was feverish and confused when a man picked me up on a dirt road. He figured out I was the missing girl and sent word to Henry." She hung her head for a moment, listening to Tipaakke's steady breathing. "He drugged me and locked me in his house. When I tried to get away he locked me in an ice house for days. I know it looked like he and I were close, but I had to pretend . . . " her voice cracked.

  "Shhhhh . . . " Tipaakke soothed. "No tears, my love."

  She went on. "I had to pretend because he said he would kill me. He said he was going to take away my baby . . ., he said . . . " She leaned against the bars, straining to brush her lips against his cheek. "I was so scared," she sobbed.

  Tipaakke threaded his hands through the bars, smoothing the hair that tumbled from her bonnet. "Hush," he whispered, "or the jailors will hear you." He breathed deeply, inhaling her familiar, magical scent. She always smelled so sweet, so fresh. He knew she told the truth, and he knew he had been wrong to jump to such erratic conclusions. "Tell me why you begged for the coward's life, Katie-girl."

  She covered his hands with hers as he held her face, tipping her chin until brown eyes met heavenly black. "I did not want his blood on your hands; you are too fine a warrior to waste your blade on such a man. I would not have you carry such a worthless soul on your belt." She blinked back the tears that flowed freely. "I will not have his dead body be the foundation for our love, our life together." Her lips trembled as she searched his eyes for understanding.

  "I am sorry, my love," Tipaakke's voice was strained. "I am sorry I suspected you of betrayal. I think maybe I still feared our love. It was too beautiful to believe it was real, that it was solid. I was hurt so badly by the thought of your going to him, that I left no place in my heart to find you innocent."

  "I would never hurt you on purpose, Fox. I love you." She pressed fleeting kisses to his rough palms and her tears mingled with his flesh.

  For a moment they rested forehead against forehead, wishing desperately that they could be closer. But the wooden bars of the jail separated them just as Jentry's lies and the white man's prejuduce did.

  "Know this, Katie-girl," Tipaakke murmured against her cheek. "I love you. I have always loved you. I love you today, I will love you tomorrow." He let the silence stretch between them for a moment and then, reluctantly, he lifted his head. "Where is my brother?"

  "Outside, we found a place to hide across the street in an old man's barn." She sniffed, giving him her best smile. "We have watched you for days. I figured out how to get inside to see you."

  "This is very clever." He nodded staring at the sober garb. "I am proud of you," he touched his bare chest, "here, in my heart. You will make a good Lenni Lenape wife."

  "Mistress . . . mistress . . . " a voice came from down the long hallway. "Are you all right?" Footsteps sounded on the brick.

  Katelyn slipped into the role of the Quaker woman, as easily as she had once slipped on a glove. She spoke, her voice true and clear. "And he did say, Repent ye: for the kingdom of heaven is at hand. For this is he that was spoken by the prophet Isaiah, saying the voice of one . . . "

  The portly jailor came around the corner and stopped in front of the first cell. "Just checking to be sure you were all right." He sipped from a pewter mug.

  Katelyn kept her head bowed, her hands elapsed in front of her as she continued with the passage, ignoring the man. " . . . crying in the darkness, Prepare ye the way of the Lord, make his paths straight." She looked up at Tipaakke standing so close to the bars that she could feel his breath on her cheek. "Heed brother," she wagged a finger at him. "We are all sinners, and we must all struggle with Satan. Think brother, and I will return tomorrow." She glanced up one more time through veiled lashes to see his calm face. All was right again between them. She could read it in his eyes. She turned her head so that the jailor saw only bonnet, but no face, and mouthed the words, "I love you, Fox." Forcing herself to turn away, she faced the jailor. "Just quoting from the Good Book." She followed him back up the hallway. "I think this man's soul has a chance. I will return on the morrow, if it suits thee."

  He shrugged his shoulders. "Doesn't make a difference to me, but I think you're wasting your time. I told you he doesn't know English."

  "And I told thee that it makes no difference." She spied her rabbit stew on the table with bread, alongside sat her basket. "You will take the food to him . . . to them both." She didn't want to seem suspicious.

  "Of course, of course!" He swept her basket off the table and handed it to her. "I'll take it right away myself. Don't want him to go hungry, do we? Want him to be nice and fat for the hanging, don't we boys?" The other men chuckled in reply.

  Katelyn headed for the door, the basket on her arm. "Dost thou really think they will?"

  "Hang him?" He opened the door for her. "Sure as living. The trial's to be at the end of the week. Going to swing the two of them together, him and the lady attacker."

  Katelyn fluttered her eyelashes. "The Good Father knows there must be a better way." She stepped onto the brick walk outside the jailhouse door.

  "No, not with these red devils, there's not. Good day to you, Mistress." He waved a hand as she headed back up the street.

  It was all Katelyn could do to walk sedately up the brick path. She wanted to run and tell Won that all was right between her and Fox again; she wanted to assure Mekollaan that his brother was safe and well. But she knew she must follow the plan. She would have to walk back through the town and disappear into the woods on the other side. Mekollaan and Won would be waiting for her at the campsite.

  Forcing herself not to smile, she kept to the role of the Quaker woman, placing one foot in front of the other. He loves me, her heart cried. He still loves me! She was so relieved. It had been so difficult to sit and wait when she knew Tipaakke was in such danger.

  Suppressing the desire to skip up the hill, she walked past the houses that lined the busy street. Never again would she live in a house, or sleep in a bed, but she didn't care. Tipaakke's wigwam suited her just fine; she liked its coziness and warmth. As she passed the last dwelling on the street, she headed through the clearing to the woods.

  Running her hand over her abdomen, she wondered what it would be like on the Ohio. "It doesn't matter," she murmured. "As long a
s we're all together, it will be beautiful."

  Hurrying through the woods, she reached the camp ahead of schedule. By the time Won and Mekollaan arrived, she had already stripped off the stifling dress and bathed in the nearby bay tributary. Slipping her sleeveless leather jerkin over her head, she tied the soft deerhide breechcloth on and sat down to eat a bowl of berries someone had picked.

  "Look at you!" Won came strutting through the trees, both arms out for Katelyn. "You get more like a Lenni Lenape each day. You risk your life, slip in and out under the enemies' nose and here you sit eating strawberries!"

  Katelyn laughed, her cheeks turning pink. "I was hungry." She shrugged her shoulders, offering the reed bowl to Won. "I would rather have had the stew, but Tipaakke got all of that."

  Won's face grew stoney. "No. He did not get my stew." She started to build a small fire, moving methodically.

  "What do you mean?" Katelyn glanced up at Mekollaan. "I took him the stew . . . well, the jailor said he would give it to him."

  Mekollaan picked up a stick and sent it flying through the air. "We saw you through the window. We also saw the jailors eat the stew and bread after you left."

  Katelyn let out an exasperated huff of breath. No wonder Won was mad! She had spend all of that time preparing the stew for Tipaakke and those pigs had eaten it! "He didn't get anything?" She put down her bowl of berries, suddenly no longer hungery. How long had it been since Fox had eaten something?

  Mekollaan squatted beside Katelyn. He has gone longer without eating. Do not worry. Now tell me everything that happened inside, Katelyn. Tell me where the cells are. Are there jailors with him? You must tell me everything." He stared into her doe eyes, well pleased. She had done well today, and he could tell by the serenity in her face that all was well between her and his brother. He was tempted to ask her about what had occurred between them, but he did not. That was personal, and he would not pry.

  Sitting there in front of the fire, beside Mekollaan, Katelyn began to feel a new self rising from deep within. As she conversed with the great Delaware brave, she could feel his acceptance of her washing over her body like soft rain. His face had softened, his eyes twinkled, as he listened to her story, asking questions when he deemed it necessary, laughing with her as she told him how she had deceived the enemy.