Forbidden Caress

by Colleen French

  "Which way do we go?" Tipaakke questioned, holding tightly to Katelyn's hand.

  "Up this hill, cross their main road by the water and between the great red houses. Katelyn knows the way, she will take you."

  "What about you, Won, aren't you coming?" She reached out to grasp her friend's arm in the darkness.

  "I stay here and watch for sick, fat jailor, then I come behind you when you are safely across the white man's road." Won waved a hand. "Now run, my friends. I can take care of this man with his loincloth down, if he comes."

  Tipaakke tugged on Katelyn's arm. "Come love. Won will follow behind, we must hurry."

  Katelyn's eyes searched his for a moment and then she nodded. "You're right." She looked back at Won who had flattened her body against the brick building and was creeping around the corner to get a look at the ill jailors. "We will wait for you at the edge of the woods."

  Won nodded, motioning them to go and slipped around the corner of the jailhouse.

  "Let's go," Katelyn whispered. "This way." Clutching Tipaakke's hand in hers, she headed up the side street.

  Katelyn ran as fast as she could, up the brick sidewalk, cradling her abdomen with one hand. Tipaakke ran beside her, guiding her with a hand, trying to help her keep her balance on the uneven bricks. In the distance they could see the smoke rising above houses and the light from a furious blaze. The sound of men shouting and wagons being pulled up the street with water barrels filled their ears. Then, just as they were reaching the end of the side street, someone stepped out of the Customs House.

  At the sound of feet beating on the brick walk, Henry Bullman pulled a flintlock pistol from beneath his red coat. Tipaakke slowed to a walk, but continued up the path, holding tightly to Katelyn's hand. Katelyn swallowed hard, the pounding of her heart seeming audible. What were they going to do?

  As Henry's eyes adjusted to the darkness of the street, he pulled back the hammer, chuckling deep in his throat. "So, we meet again, do we?"

  Katelyn was turning deathly pale as they grew nearer to the smirking murderer. But calmly, as they walked, she slipped her hand down her leg, feeling for the knife she had strapped to her thigh before she left the campsite. From the look in Henry's eyes, she knew Fox was going to do it.

  "Let us pass," Tipaakke ordered quietly. "I have what I wanted from you. And we know who killed the dark boy. There is no need for you to kill us. I will not speak of it again."

  Henry laughed, walking towards them. "You think I care what you say, animal?" His face was contorted with power, as he waved the pistol this way and that. "We already saw what your word was worth, didn't we?"

  "Henry, please, just walk away," Katelyn begged. "He's going to kill you. Do you want to die?" she screamed.

  "He's not going to kill me, you stupid bitch! I've got the gun. I'm going to shoot him right in the middle of the forehead." He stopped only a few feet from where Tipaakke and Katelyn stood. "The question is, what am I going to do with you?"

  "Just let us go, Henry," she pleaded. "If you take him on, you'll not survive." She could feel Tipaakke tensing his muscles beside her; she could hear his breathing becoming more shallow. He was preparing himself for battle, and he would not lose this one.

  "Just shut your face, bitch. I'll deal with you in a minute."

  "Do not speak to my wife in that manner," Tipaakke commanded, his voice deathly low. He released Katelyn's hand. "Get back," he whispered in Algonquian.

  "Please, Fox. Don't do this, don't kill him." She pulled at his arm. "Please, let's just run."

  "Your wife!" Henry shouted. "She isn't your wife." He pointed the pistol at her chest. "She was supposed to be my wife! My father got her for me. She was supposed to be mine!" His face was turning bright red, his chest heaving with rage. "And you took her and ruined her!"

  Tipaakke could tell by look on the man's face and by the tone of his voice, that he was no longer in control of himself. Something strange and distorted was driving him mad. He hated to kill Henry if he was possessed by evil spirits, but he would have no choice if the man attacked them. "I said get back, Katelyn," he ordered sharply.

  Katelyn released Tipaakke's arm, stepping to the side as she eased her knife from beneath her skirt. Anger was replacing her fear. How dare Henry speak of her like that, like she was some object that could just be passed from man to man. She could almost kill him herself. "What do you want me for?" she dared.

  "Hush-Katie-girl," Tipaakke warned. "He is touched in the head. Do not anger him further."

  Katelyn ignored Tipaakke, taking a step closer to Henry. "Well, can't you speak? Tell me! Tell the Fox and me what you would want with me." She got right up in his face, spitting fire.

  "Shut up!" Henry urged in a strained voice, as he shook his head to and fro. "I told you to keep your mouth shut, you Indian lovin' whore!"

  "Answer me, Henry Bullman," she taunted. "Tell me what you think you'd do with me if you had me." Her voice reached a threatening crescendo. "I don't look much like a young stable boy, do I?"

  "I said shut up, bitchin' whore!" Henry screamed lunging forward to grab her around her neck, knocking her knife from her hand.

  Katelyn screamed, struggling as Henry raised the pistol to her temple, holding her against his body. "Let go of me, Henry. This is so foolish."

  "Yes," he told her, looking up to the Indian. "I think maybe this is a better idea." He tightened his hold on Katelyn, putting pressure on her throat until she struggled to breathe. "I think I'll kill her here in front of you," he told Fox. "And let them hang you tomorrow on schedule."

  "Henry," Katelyn gasped, "that will make you a murderer as well. You'll hang beside him." She was beginning to get dizzy from lack of sufficient oxygen.

  Tipaakke flexed his fingers, watching Henry Coward's every movement. The poor fool would make a mistake, and then the Fox would have him. He growled deep in his throat. He would have let the deranged man live; he would have let him walk away, but he had made his fatal mistake. He should never have laid a hand on Katelyn. Now, this confused, cowardly white man would pay for that mistake with his life.

  "I won't hang for your death," Henry told Katelyn, laughing. "I'll just say he did it." He pointed to Tipaakke with the pistol before pressing the barrel to her head again.

  "You have no wish to kill her," Tipaakke told him in a deadly voice. "She has done you no harm." As he spoke, he inched closer, easing into a crouching, attack position. The knife was too far away to reach.

  "Stay back!" Henry screamed. "She's done nothing? She ruined my life! Everything was fine until she came here." Tears were beginning to run down his cheeks. "I was going to be a pillar of the community. The people were going to respect me, they, they . . . " His grasp on Katelyn's neck was loosening as fast as the grip he held on sanity. "Now get back! I see you creepin' closer, like some . . . some wild animal."

  The moment Henry waved his pistol, Tipaakke was on him, knocking Katelyn safely to the ground and growling like one of the Heavenly Father's wild creatures. When Tipaakke's near-naked body hit Henry's, it drove him with such force that the pistol shot off, sending its single, lead ball uselessly into the night.

  "Help me!" Henry cried as he went down. "Someone help me!" But no one heard his cries. Every able-bodied man in Annapolis was fighting the fire at the other end of town. Everyone who had been in the Customs House had gone to give a hand. Henry had remained behind, saying laughingly, that he wasn't dressed for the occasion.

  Katelyn scrambled to her feet, unharmed to see Tipaakke and Henry rolling, entangled, into the street. "Fox! Let him go! He's crazy!" she shouted. "He can't hurt us now." She grabbed the knife off the cold brick, but made no attempt to get it into Tipaakke's hands. She didn't want him to kill Henry, she just wanted to run. "Please, Fox," she begged. "Let him go, someone will come!"

  Suddenly, Katelyn spun around. She froze in terror at the sound of pounding feet. "Fox," she screamed, "someone's coming."

  "Give me the knife," Tipaakke ordere
d, pinning Henry to the ground. "Give it to me," he ordered her in Algonquian.

  "No! Come on!" She clutched the knife in her hand. "You can't kill him!" Then she heard the call of the whippoorwill and let out a sigh of relief. "Won?" she called into the darkness.

  Won appeared from the darkness. "Run!" she warned in Algonquian. "Uishameheela, my friends!" She grabbed Katelyn by the arm. "Take your woman, Fox. The fat man comes with his gun breathing fire. I will take care of the coward-man!"

  But it was too late, the red-faced jailor was already racing up the dark street, a flintlock rifle under each arm and a two pistols tucked in his drooping breeches. "Come on, Bruce," he shouted. "I see him! I see the red bastard."

  Without thought, Won grabbed Katelyn by the back of the neck and started running. Katelyn screamed to Fox as her friend propelled her forward. "Come on. Let him be!"

  Tipaakke let go of Henry and got to his feet. Katelyn was right, the coward was not worthy of death. But as the Fox started after Won and Katelyn, Henry got to his feet, throwing his body against Tipaakke's.

  At that moment, a shot ran out and Katelyn spun around to see Henry and Tipaakke stumble under the impact of the lead ball and fall to the ground, rolling down a slight incline. "No!" she cried, wrenching herself free from Won to race back to Fox.

  "I got him! I got the red bastard!" the jailor shouted over his shoulder as he tripped over the barrel of his flintlock and fell to the ground, spilling his guns all over the street.

  The few seconds it took Katelyn to reach Tipaakke seemed to take centuries. "Fox!" she called, tears running down her face. She could hear Won behind her shouting for her to run, but she ignored her friend's pleas. She had no life if Fox was dead . . . let them kill her.

  Just as Katelyn reached the tangle of blood-splattered bodies, Fox rose, separating himself from Henry's still body. Throwing his arms out to her, he caught her around the waist and spun her around. "Run," he told her.

  Katelyn was laughing and crying at the same time. "What about Henry?" she cried out as they raced passed the Customs House, arm and arm.

  "You can't help him," Tipaakke answered shaking his head. "The jailor sent him into the next world."

  As they rounded the corner, Won spotted men running up the street, firing rifles. Someone must have finally heard all of the commotion. With the jailor on their heels and the white men coming down the street, Won saw no choice but to head for the wharfs. Signaling to Katelyn and Tipaakke behind her, she darted behind the Customs House and through another yard. "We must lose them," Won whispered as they pressed their bodies against a building, watching hollering, gun-wielding men run by.

  Once the men had passed, Won, Katelyn and Tipaakke were able to cross another street and make it to the wharfs. All hell had broken loose by then in Annapolis; men with lanterns and dogs ran shouting in all directions. Guns were going off and the streets were being flooded by women and children. The three would never be able to get through the town. They were cornered at the bay's edge.

  "A boat." Won told them. "We will go by boat." A smile crossed her face as she crouched in the shadows on the dock. "There, do you see that one?" She pointed. "They picked up their ropes, they are going."

  Katelyn clutched Tipaakke's hand, as they crept down the dock, keeping to the shadows. Watching the two men that picked up line, they moved to the side of the yawl. Without a sound, Tipaakke landed on the deck and reached for Katelyn.

  "Come on," Katelyn signaled to Won as she landed safely beside Fox on the boat.

  But Won just shook her head, turning to speak to Tipaakke. "Here is my knife, Fox. take it." She tossed it to him. "Katelyn's is back in her bag. She has food and water."

  Tipaakke nodded crouching in the shadows. Across the mound of covered crates, men moved about tending lines. "We will ride until we are safely away from these lawmen and then we will make the sailors put us on shore."

  Won smiled. "On my own, I can lead these baying hounds on a chase and then I will vanish into the night." She put out her hand to Tipaakke. "I am glad to see you again, my friend."

  Tipaakke squeezed her hand. "Thank you. We will not forget what you have done for us."

  Won laughed, withdrawing her hand. "I had forgotten what it was to run naked through the night scaring the white men. I should not spend so much time in my wigwam baking cakes for my son." She kissed her palm and held it up to Katelyn. "I will see you in the village in a day or two. Do not be long or your child will be born in the forest with no one to attend to you but that worthless man of yours." Still chuckling to herself, she disappeared into the darkness.

  Crawling on their hands and knees, Tipaakke and Katelyn hid themselves on the yawl among the crates and parcels covered with oiled canvas. Moving silently, they crawled between the packing boxes until they found a roomy alcove near the center of the deck.

  "Someone must have forgotten a crate," Katelyn whispered, having a seat on the deck and stretching out her feet. In a sitting position, the canvas cover just cleared their heads by a few inches. Here they would be safe and dry until Tipaakke deemed it safe to go ashore.

  "It looks like it," Tipaakke replied, still on his hands and knees.

  For a moment, a silent awkwardness stretched between them. So much had happened since they had last been in each other's arms. Yet as their eyes met, it suddenly seemed as if it had only been yesterday that they had clung to each other in the cave on the bank of the stream, making love until the sun shone high above. Had all of this really happened, Katelyn wondered. Had the Mohawks captured Tipaakke again? Had Henry really locked her up in that terrifying ice house? Had Tipaakke honestly believed she had betrayed his love? Or was it just a bad dream? Everything suddenly seemed jumbled in her mind. Slowly, she reached her arms out to him. "Tipaakke?" she murmured.

  His heavenly black eyes never left hers as he crawled to her, taking her in his arms. "I never thought I would hold you again," he breathed against her hair.

  Katelyn buried her face in his shoulder, clinging to him. "It's been so long, Fox . . . so long. I thought you were gone. I didn't think we could ever get you out of their hands."

  "I knew you would do it, Katie-girl." He touched the end of her nose playfully with a finger. "With you, Won, and Mekollaan on my side, they didn't have a chance."

  Katelyn laced her fingers through his dark hair, reacquainting herself with his once familiar body. She ran her hand over his chin, giggling. "You have need of a clam shell, I would say, your face grows as hairy as a bear's." Actually, his beard was rather sparse, but she had grown use to the feel of his smooth cheek against her own.

  Tipaakke examined his chin. "I am sorry, Madame Wolf-woman, but I have been busy trying to catch up with my wife. She will do anything to keep from sharing my mat; she will send the Mohawks to carry me off; she will even lock me in a jail and threaten to hang me."

  "I am not your wife," Katelyn wagged a finger at him.

  "Your are my wife in my heart." He pressed her hand on his chest. "And as soon as we get back to the village, you will be my wife by our laws as well." He kissed each of the tips of her fingers before he released her hand. "Now tell me about my child you carry here like a basket of squash." He stroked her tight stomach covered by the Quaker's gray dress.

  "I will, but first you must help me get this thing off before I suffocate!" She got up on her knees, wiggling the dress up to her waist. "My own clothes are in my bag."

  Tipaakke helped her get the dress over her head and then threw it in a heap on the boat's deck in the opposite corner of their little hideaway. "I think I like you better like this," he whispered huskily, cradling her in his arms. Even in the darkness, he could make out the faint outline of her sumptuous curves. "My child has made you blossom."

  "Your child has made me fat," she teased, toying with a lock of his hair.

  Tipaakke ran his hand over and over her stomach, marveling at what a miracle this truly was. "I have missed you, my son," he murmured, his lips pressed against
her.

  "How do you know it's a son?"

  "Won said it was a son." He laid an ear on her round belly, listening. "He says he is a son."

  "Won does not know everything." She laid back, resting her head on her skin bag. It felt so good to have him stroke the tight skin that itched day and night. "Maybe it is a daughter."

  Tipaakke turned back to her, his face more serious. "You know it matters not. I would love a son or a daughter equally. There are advantages to having them both."

  "I don't know what I want," she answered thoughtfully.

  He crawled up, laying his head on one full breast. "Then we will just have to have one of each."

  "Please. Let me have this one first. I have heard women's tales of childbirth before. I may not want any more if I live through the first."

  Tipaakke propped himself up on an elbow. "Katie-girl, there's no need to fear bringing a child into the world among our people." He brushed her hair over her forehead, knowing she really was afraid. "There is no pain. Won will do magic with her teas. You will feel nothing but the joy of bringing another soul to our people. And after the child is born, you will be cared for by the other women of our tribe." He smiled down at her. You will not even have to make my evening meal. Others will bring for us for more than a moon so that we can be together."

  Katelyn let out a sigh of relief. "My people think a woman must suffer in childbirth because of the sins she has committed." Then another thought crossed her mind. "We will be moving soon! How can I have the baby if we are traveling?"

  "I do not know when we are to leave. Soon I think; I will talk with Father and Mekollaan when I return. But, do not worry, you will be cared for. We will make a litter and carry you if we must, just like one of the old ones." He leaned to kiss the lips that were tempting him so. "You have heard that my brother and I will rule our people when my father has passed into the next world?"

  "I have," she whispered, flicking out her tongue to taste his. "And I am so proud of my brave that my heart bursts with joy." She laced her hands through his hair, guiding him into a deeper kiss.