The trial was all a blur to Katelyn as she stood at the window, listening to the judicial nonsense. Henry, dressed in a brilliant red coat and red shoes with green heels stood up and told of how he and his betrothed were attacked by the heathen and how the savage killed the servant Jonathan and kidnapped his beloved. As a matter of protocol, Tipaakke was asked to state his case. Surprising everyone, he stood, flashed a smile at all present and then spoke softly for the first time since his capture, in English. "I did not kill the dark-skinned boy."
"Then who did?" the bewigged judge demanded, startled that the red bastard spoke English.
Tipaakke tipped back his head, laughing until the sound of his voice reverberated. "That, you must ask Henry Coward." He pointed one long, bronze finger in Henry's direction, and the courtroom broke into frenzied conversation.
The rest was simple. Once the courtroom was in order again, the verdict returned swiftly. "Guilty as charged," the judge announced solemnly. "The Indian is sentenced to hang by his neck until dead. God rest his soul. God bless the King of England."
"God rest his soul," the crowd repeated. "God bless King George!"
For a brief moment, Katelyn thought she might faint. She had known this was coming, and she thought she'd prepared herself, but to actually hear the sentence was almost more than she could bear. I have to get out of here, she thought. The sun was beating unmercifully on her head, and her body was smothering beneath the Quaker woman's dress. Pushing through the crowd, she made her way to the sidewalk, and hurried back up the street. Her heart pounded beneath her breast and rivulets of perspiration ran down the sides of her face. If I can just get back to the camp, she told herself, I will be all right. The brick beneath her feet suddenly seemed uneven as she climbed the hill, stumbling around the corner of a building. The ground beneath her feet swirled and rolled as she ran across the meadow and into the woods. Racing blindly through the forest, she called to Won over and over again until she found herself in her friend's arms.
Words spilled from Katelyn's mouth as tears ran down her cheeks. "It was so horrible," she moaned. "I wanted to kill them. I wanted to kill them all. I'm so afraid."
Won led Katelyn through the trees to the camp and helped her to the ground, motioning to Mekollaan to stay back. "She will be fine, Hawk," she assured him in a whisper. "The baby could come soon. It is hard for a woman at this time." She pulled the black bonnet off her head. "She does not always have control over her mind and body." She brushed back the damp hair off Katelyn's head, and started to pull her dress over her head.
"Are you sure she is strong enough?" Mekollaan's voice was strained. He was concerned for Katelyn's health, but his brother's life depended on her right now. She had to be able to carry through with the plan.
"I said she would be fine. She needs sleep and peaceful time to think. Now leave us, take your men and go fishing. I will care for her and prepare all for tonight. We will be ready."
Mekollaan nodded, and turned to call his men. He would have to trust Won. What other choice did he have?
Chapter Seventeen
By the time Katelyn woke from her nap, the shadows of the trees were lengthening, and the air had grown cooler. For a few moments, she laid there on Won's mat, listening to the movement of the Lenni Lenape braves as they broke camp. Their voices were hushed and comforting, enveloping her like a babe's blanket. What ever had been in that tea Won had given her had certainly been strong! She had said it would calm her, relax her so that she could get some rest before evening. Katelyn remembered nothing after the first few sips! Slowly, she lifted her eyelids.
"I see you wake." Won smiled down at her. "Do you feel better?" She kneeled beside her.
"Much. Thank you." Katelyn sat up lazily. "I feel so foolish for carrying on so." She looked down to see that Won must have taken the Quaker gown off her and dressed her in her clean jerkin and breechcloth.
"Do not feel that way. We are your friends. There is no shame in what we feel in our hearts." Won turned to begin packing bundles of fresh flowers and herbs in her medicine bag. "I know it must have been hard to stand and listen to the white men say they will kill the man you love."
Katelyn ran her hands through her long hair, brushing it off her shoulders. The rest had done her good. All was in perspective again. She knew the plan and could recite it word for word, and she knew it was going to work. She would make it work! "How soon do we go, Won?"
Her friend got slowly to her feet. "Soon, Kate-lyn." She laid one hand on her shoulder. "You must get your things together. I will carry your bag until your part is done. We will not return to this site; Mekollaan says we head for home tonight."
Once Katelyn had packed her few belongings; her porcupine-quill hairbrush, her water bag, and her clean breechcloth and jerkin, she made ready to play the role of the Quaker missionary one last time.
Once Katelyn was dressed and bonneted, she sought out Mekollaan who was overseeing the cleanup of the campsite. The fire had to be buried, the leaves swept back over the bare spots they'd made, and all signs of human occupation removed. That was the way they found the small clearing, and that was the way they would leave it.
"Mekollaan," Katelyn spoke hesitantly, knowing what she wanted to say, but not knowing the words. She spoke in halting Algonquian, inserting English words when she had to. "I want to say I am sorry for misjudging you. I am sorry for the bad things I have said to you, and about you." She searched his ebony eyes for compassion. "I think I understand you now, and your ways. You disliked me because you were afraid I would hurt your brother."
Mekollaan stared at Katelyn standing there in front of him, dressed in a gown similar to the one the Quaker girl he had once loved had worn. Katelyn was nothing like she—who's name he would never speak again—but the dark bonnet with dangling strings brought back memories he had thought were long buried. It had taken a lot for his brother's woman to come to him like this, and he was touched. "And I am sorry for the same." He spoke in English, because it was her language, just as she had apologized in his. "I, too, misjudged. You are not the woman who betrayed me." He stroked his thick, dark scalplock. "I see why my brother, Fox, would love you."
"And I see why he would love you," she returned in broken Lenni Lenape, offering her hand to him. "Let us go to your brother with friendship in our hearts."
He took her pale hand, squeezing it tightly in his own. "And I am sorry for what I did to you the first day you came to the village. My manners were very bad."
Katelyn laughed, throwing back her head. "You are forgiven."
Their eyes met and held for a moment, then the Hawk broke the spell. "Let us go. It is time to find our brother and take him home."
Katelyn's palms were so damp as she walked down the familiar sidewalk, that she had to continually switch the basket from one side to the other and wipe her sweaty hands on her dress. It was almost dark by the time she reached the jailhouse door, just as planned. Whispering a silent prayer, and turning to give a wink in the direction of the barn across the street, she rapped on the door.
"Mistress?" The red-faced jailor wrinkled his face in confusion. "One of you already brought the prisoners a meal."
Katelyn forced herself to breath easily. "Oh, well, perhaps they might still be hungry." She lifted the lid on the basket to release the smell of fresh-baked muffins, clam soup, and raisin cookies. The muffins and cookies had been stolen from the tavern bakehouse, but Won had brewed the soup herself — special herbs and all.
The jailor sniffed, fluttering his eyelashes. "Yes, ma'am, come to think of it, those prisoners might just still be hungry." His Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he wet his lips. "Won't you come in?"
Katelyn stepped into the parlor and nodded to the two playing cards. "Even', gentlemen." She dropped the basket on the table. "I know thee likes to take them their meals thyself." She nodded, smiling pleasantly. What did it matter if he saw her this time? He'd never see her again. "I'll just go and give the men some final prayers, and
then be on my way. Does that suit?"
"Yes, ma'am. Just don't be long. I think those two will be wanting to get a taste of this chowder before it gets cool." He rubbed his hand absently over his drooping stomach.
Katelyn turned her bonneted head to keep him from catching her smile. "I will only be a moment." Then she disappeared down the hallway that led to the cells.
"Fox!" Katelyn ran to the wooden bars, pressing her face between the slats. Though the other prisoner was sleeping in his straw bed, her voice was hushed.
"Katie-girl!" Fox crossed his cell to reach for her. "You have come." He stroked her cheek with the palm of his hand.
"I told you I would be here." Suddenly the smile fell from her face. "What happened to you?" she crooned, running her fingers through his hair. His face was badly bruised again, his nose swollen, and his eye half closed.
"It is nothing. What is important to me is that you are here." He took her hands in his so that he could look at her sweet face.
"Tonight is the night, my love. Soon we will be in each other's arms again." She squeezed his hands. "Won will care for your wounds when we set you free."
"I am glad tonight is the night," he teased, "because tomorrow night I will be busy . . . busy hanging from that grandfather oak in the square."
Katelyn's doe eyes grew wide. "Don't even say that, it's not funny."
"Look at you with your mouth puckered like a dried fish." He ran a finger over her lips, softening them. "Am I to escape from here only to spend the rest of my days married to such a shriveled, sharp-tongued vixen?"
"Do not tease me! We're not out of this yet. Kiss me Tipaakke Oopus, I must go."
"You haven't told me how you're going to get me out. Where is Mekollaan? Is he coming?" He tucked a stray curl beneath her black bonnet.
"He is outside. I will be back for you very soon. We have poisoned the food that I brought you with a purge. If the jailors eat it just as they did last night and the night before, Won says they should be running to the back of the building very soon after."
Tipaakke chuckled. "You must tell me everything later, now go, before the fat-bellied man comes."
"I hate to leave you, Fox." Her voice was soft and laced with emotion.
"I know, my wolf-woman," he told her huskily. "I dream of you day and night. I cannot wait to touch you again, to feel your naked body against mine."
Katelyn's cheeks grew flushed, not from embarrassment, but desire. "Soon, very soon. I promise." She tore herself away from him. "I must go. Be ready, I will be back very soon for you."
Entering the parlor, Katelyn gathered her basket and empty soup bowl, making a quick exit. She was as anxious to get out of there as they were to get rid of her.
"Good night, mistress," the jailor called behind her. "Please feel free to bring a meal to a prisoner any time."
Katelyn nodded her head and closed the door softly behind her. Glancing in the direction of the abandoned barn, she gave a quick nod and hurried up the street. Cutting across an alley and back tracking, she was in the barn within minutes.
"You did it!" Won squeezed her arm, a grin broad on her face.
"Of course I did it." Katelyn moved to peer through the crack in the wide boards. "Now all we have to do is wait." She looked anxiously to Won. "I sure hope those herbs of yours work."
"They will work. I put many times what was needed. Those men who lock people in cages will be clean for many days." Won handed Katelyn her hide bag. "There is food and water in there."
"Why will I need it? We'll all travel together." Katelyn kept her face pressed to the crack in the barn wall.
"You always need food and water." Won stood on her toes to try and see over Katelyn's head. "Can you see the white men?"
She gave an excited yelp. "I can! I can see them now. They're sitting down to eat!" Twisting her hands in the heavy cotton dress, she watched the men shovel spoon after spoon of Won's clam soup into their mouths. "How long ago did Mekollaan and the others go?"
"Just after you went inside. Cautious Wind will return soon. He will carry word when you go back into the jail."
Katelyn turned to her large friend. "Where will you be?"
"With you," Won answered evenly.
"Oh, no. I said I was doing this alone." She rested a hand on her hip.
"I will wait for you outside the jail place. Mekollaan says you must be protected." Won turned to nod at Cautious Wind who had just slipped in the back.
Katelyn nodded in agreement. "This is fair, I suppose." Then, without warning, she spotted frenzied movement through the window of the jailhouse. "Look! Quick!" she elbowed Won in the side. "Here they come." She giggled with glee.
When the jailhouse door swung open, Katelyn and Won were already out of the barn and coming around the corner. Slipping into the shadows, they covered their mouths to keep from laughing out loud. The first man was the tall thin one Katelyn had seen sitting at the card table. He leaped off the step, groaning and then raced around the back of the jailhouse, his knees knocking together. A few moments later, the other card player followed behind, heading for the necessary built in the back. Then finally came the red-faced jailor, and he was the most amusing of them all.
"My God! My God!" the man cried, running from the jailhouse, with one hand covering his mouth and the other holding his stomach. "Out of the way! Out of the way!" he moaned as he rounded the corner out of sight.
The moment he disappeared, Katelyn touched Cautious Wind on the back. "Run! Tell Hawk that all is well and he should light the fires." She gave him a push, waiting until he disappeared before she started across the street.
Stealthily, Katelyn and Won crossed the street in the darkness, keeping their eyes open for any movement. Won thought the jailors would be occupied for some time, but there was no telling how long it would be before someone else was sent to guard the prisoners. They were never, as a rule, left unattended. The head jailor actually lived in part of the jailhouse.
When they reached the door, Won gave Katelyn a quick squeeze on the shoulder and let her go. Katelyn bolted through the open door and raced down the hallway. Jerking the keys off the peg on the wall, she reached Tipaakke's cell.
"You've done it," he cheered, hanging on to the wooden bars that separated them.
Katelyn fumbled with the keys, trying to get one in the massive iron lock. It was so hot, she was suffocating! Why couldn't she get the key in the hole? Ripping the black, silk bonnet off her head, she sent it flying through the air. Freshly washed curls of deep red fell to her shoulders creating a curtain of fiery contrast against the gray, drab gown. "I can't get it! I can't get it!" she repeated over and over again, her hands shaking.
"Calm yourself, Katie-girl." Tipaakke's voice was warm, but insistent. "We have plenty of time."
"We don't have time," she moaned, shoving another key into the lock.
"Hey, what goes here?" The blond prisoner pressed his face to the bars that separated his cell from Tipaakke's. His eyes grew round when he saw the keys in Katelyn's hands. "You gettin' us out of here, preacher lady?"
"Not you, I'm not!" she spit, wrenching the key this way and that. Why wouldn't it open?
"What, you don't think I'm as good as that red bastard?" He gripped the wooden bars tightly, his face twisted in anger.
"Take the key out and put it in again," Tipaakke encouraged from behind the bars.
Katelyn pushed back her hair out of her face and inserted the key again. "Come on! Come on," she coaxed. This time the key began to ease right, click, clicking as she turned it. "It's coming," she murmured under her breath. "Just a little further . . . " Then with one final clank, the heavy lock fell open. For a moment Katelyn just stared at it, then she was ripping it out of the door and throwing up the wooden bar that kept the door shut.
Two steps and she was in Tipaakke's arms. Her chest heaved with terror as she clung to him. "I was so afraid I would never see you again," she cried. "They were going to kill you, Henry was going to have you
hung."
"Shhhh," Tipaakke hushed, stroking the back of her head with his palm. It felt so strange to him to have her body pressed against him like this, with her protruding stomach rubbing against him. He dropped a hand to run it over the firm roundness, and she laughed, covering his hand with her own. "The child is so large," he murmured against her hair.
"Won says it will be a son." She peered up at him through a veil of damp, dark lashes. "My time is very near. Won says we will be lucky if we get back to the village in time." She smiled up at him.
"Hey you, preacher woman!" The blond prisoner moved to the front of his cell. "You're an Injun lover are you?" His eyes narrowed and his lip curled to one side. "You better let me out of here, bitch, because I've seen you, I've seen your face. I'll be tellin' the judge just who let the savage out."
Katelyn turned to look over Tipaakke's shoulder, her face hardening. "Why should I let you out?" she taunted.
"Cause you let him out," the prisoner snapped back.
She released Tipaakke, coming around to the cell. "Tell me something . . . " she raised an eyebrow, inquiring his name.
"Nathan, Nathan Michaels." His eyes gleamed at the thought of cheating the hangman.
"Tell me, Nathan." Katelyn step close to him. "Did you attack and rape that woman?"
"Hell, yeah," he replied, smiling wickedly. "But I reckon that ain't worth hangin' for."
Nonchalantly, Katelyn picked the ring of keys up off the floor, and returned them to the peg, casting a smug look at Nathan. "Guess we disagree."
Tipaakke grabbed Katelyn's hand and yanked her down the hall. "Enough, woman. Let's go!"
"Hey! Come back here!" the prisoner screamed after them. "Let me out of here, you Injun lovin' bitch!"
When Katelyn and Tipaakke appeared at the door of the jailhouse, Won waved them into the street. "Hurry!" she ordered in Algonquian. "The Hawk and his braves have lit haystacks on fire at the end of the main street. There are already white men running everywhere."
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