Blackbird

by Henderson, Nancy

  And perhaps then he would love her.

  Her spirits lifted at the prospect. She kept up with the Indian’s quick pace, her having to take two steps to his one long, easy stride. He carried his heavy musket over his shoulder as if it were light as a feather. He was not perspiring a bit, unlike herself she felt drenched and filthy.

  “How is it that you speak English?” she asked.

  He said something in his own language. She could not understand it, but his tone was unmistakably sarcastic.

  She pressed anyway. “My Oneida students can speak English, but they speak it rather choppy. Yours is quite fluent.”

  When he did not answer, she changed the subject. “Can we stop and rest for a bit?”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I said so.”

  “Do you always order people around?”

  “Yes.”

  Suddenly angered, Katherine stopped walking. She found herself in a patch of ferns and defiantly plopped down in the center of them. Never in all her nineteen years had she let someone control her. Mama had said her independence came from her father’s Irish blood. She would often scold her for it, saying she would never find a husband with her attitude. But Katherine did not care. She was what she was. If she was a little too headstrong, so be it. God had made her that way, and who was she to go against Him? If she could not be true to herself, what did she have in this world? Nothing.

  She did not know how long she sat there listening to the peaceful songs of the forest birds. She had begun to think the Indian really had gone on without her when she saw him come back. His glare was set in annoyance, and she wondered if he was angry enough to beat her.

  Before he had time to make up his mind, she stood, valise in hand. “Well, I feel quite rested now.” She walked calmly past him, refusing to meet his black glare. “Let’s be off.”

  “We will set camp here,” he announced. “Gather wood and make a fire.”

  Katherine dropped her valise. Never in her life had anyone ordered her to make a fire or to do any task for that matter. She had made plenty of fires, and she was not afraid of hard work. She was the one who had always tended the fireplace when Mama was alive. But she had never encountered anyone so cold and demanding.

  Except when Joshua had said he did not love her.

  Defiantly, Katherine folded her arms over her chest. “I will not.”

  The Indian charged her so fast Katherine thought he would strike her. His glare was cold and hateful. His nose was hawk like, and his eyes were as black as the fast approaching night. She stepped back.

  “You will build a fire or you will sleep cold. Your choice. I am tired of you.”

  “Tired of me?” She’d had enough. She was tired, filthy, and hungry. She was not going to take anymore from this vile excuse for a human being. “Let me tell you who’s tired of whom. I have been trying to be civil to you since I met you. I am exhausted from trying to keep up with you. I have to carry this heavy bag over rocks and trees and brush. You won’t slow down, and you won’t lift a finger to help me. You haven’t treated me with an ounce of respect since I met you, and you’re tired of me! Let me tell you something, Mr.--”

  Katherine stopped. It suddenly dawned on her that she did not even know his name. “What do you call yourself, anyway?”

  “Adahya.”

  “Excuse me?”

  The Indian stepped back. “My name is Adahya.”

  “What kind of name is that?”

  “It is an Algonquin name. My mother was Algonquin, but she was adopted by the Ganeagaono. I am of the Turtle Clan.”

  Katherine was silent for a moment. “Adahya,” she repeated, rolling the strange sound over her tongue. “What does it mean?”

  “Lives in the woods.”

  “What kind of name is that?”

  He turned his back to her and muttered something she could not understand.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. I just don’t understand why your mother--Do you live in the woods?”

  He flashed a look of annoyance. Leaning his musket against a tree, he removed a quilled possible bag from his shoulder. He sat down and rummaged through it as if she were not even there.

  Night closed in rapidly on the forest. The sounds of birds and small animals suddenly seemed very loud. Katherine had never spent a night without shelter, and the thought of doing so now with this man and a complete stranger suddenly unnerved her.

  They had walked all day, but he had not attacked her--yet. He probably hated her and certainly would have brought harm to her already if that had been his intention.

  Somewhat relieved, she thought of building a fire after all and began gathering firewood. She scurried over fallen logs, picking up small twigs and branches. She kept him in her sight at all times. He was eating some jerky which he had taken from his bag. Katherine’s stomach growled. She had not eaten since morning. Did he intend to feed her? Maybe he was waiting for her to ask. That was something she most certainly would not do.

  A bundle of wood in her arms, she dropped them beside the Indian and began arranging them in a small bundle: leaves first, some dry moss, and small twigs last.

  He was watching with unusual interest. Was it approval in his eyes? A hint of a grin crossed her face. She motioned to his satchel. “Do you have flint in there?”

  Wordlessly, he withdrew the flint from his bag. He watched her as she struck the flint and the tinder began to smolder. She decided that she did not care if he was listening to her or not and began talking just to offset the silence of the approaching dusk. “My name is Katherine St. James. I don’t expect you to care, but I am telling you anyway because it is the proper thing to do. My mother, God rest her soul, raised me to be better than that.”

  The tinder spark danced with the dried moss, and Katherine blew air to feed the flame. “There. That’s better.”

  “What does it mean?”

  He was staring intently at her work on the fire. “Pardon?”

  “Your name.”

  Katherine shrugged.

  “It must mean something.” He was looking at her now.

  “It’s just a name.” She pondered what he had said. “I suppose my mother just liked the way it sounded.”

  He grunted.

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  He looked at her as if he expected horns to sprout from her forehead. “White eyes make no sense. You cannot have a name and have it not mean something. You can like the sound of a bird in the forest or a river flowing, but you would not name someone after the sound. You’re name must mean something.”

  “Well if my name means something, I have no idea what it is.”

  “As I said, you make no sense.”

  Katherine leaned back on her heels. She longed for a bath or to wade in a nearby stream at the very least, and her filthiness coupled with this annoying Indian was taking its toll on her nerves. Irritated again, she purposely picked an argument with him. “We make no sense because of our names, indeed. That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard.”

  “It is not only your names. Nothing you people do makes any sense.”

  “It most certainly does!”

  “Then tell me what makes sense. Provide examples. Prove your point.” He was obviously just as irritated with her now.

  “Everything I do has meaning.”

  “I do not agree.”

  “I don’t care if you agree or not. Who are you to judge me anyway?”

  “Why did you not take Knox’s name?”

  Caught off guard, she met prying eyes that seemed to look right through her. “Because he’s not my husband.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “What is he then?” When she did not answer, he grunted. “You see? No meaning. No sense.”

  Katherine looked away. His words cut her deeply. What was Joshua Knox to her? He was her best friend, her mentor, her heart. He was everything to her. And to him, she was--

  She was a
friend. Nothing more.

  “Joshua loves me very much.” Her voice wavered, and tears stung the backs of her eyes.

  “How much?”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “A missionary’s woman cursing? You had better recite the Rosary.”

  “My relationship to Reverend Knox is none of your business!”

  Fuming, Katherine stormed off toward the sound of a stream. How would she ever last four more days with this man?

  CHAPTER THREE

  ADAHYA watched her stomp toward the stream. Talking of Knox had turned her mood sour. Not that he cared. He most certainly did not. All the same, Knox had hurt her somehow. He had heard proof in her voice.

  He waited until she was far enough ahead to avoid being seen and then followed her. He peeked out from behind a giant tamarack and watched her sit on the edge of the stream to unlace her shoes. Dusk had settled, and the darkness contrasted with the paleness of her calves as she removed her stockings. Her calves and ankles were shapely but much thinner than a woman’s should be. To add to her unattractiveness, she was too tall. A woman should be a good foot shorter than a man. They should not come eye-to-eye like this one did to him.

  She stepped into the river, allowing the water to wash over her feet as it did the river rocks. She brought her head forward and removed the pins from her hair. The ugly bun at the back of her head immediately transformed itself to a wall of thick, black hair which cascaded nearly to her waist. When she straightened, it fell around her face and took years from her uptight appearance. Yes, her scalp would have brought ten British pounds at Fort Niagara.

  Adahya wondered what the Redcoats would do to her before they hung her. Colonel Butler had always been fair to him and to his people. Knox, however, had been a thorn in Butler’s side for nearly two years now. Surely Butler’s men would make her suffer long for being his woman.

  She stood there a long moment, apparently assessing her surroundings. Then she stepped out of the water and began putting on her stockings and shoes.

  Adahya hurried back to the fire. When she returned to him her hair was braided in one long plait down her back. He offered her a piece of moose jerky from his bag, and she hungrily devoured it.

  “How did your mother die?”

  “Childbirth,” she answered with her mouth full of jerky. “The baby, my brother, died with her. He would have been my only sibling. That was two years ago. Papa is remarried now, and he and my stepmother have a little girl. Anna.” She took more jerky. “Is your family still living?”

  Adahya nodded. It was dark now, and the firelight painted eerie shadows onto the surrounding birch and maple trees. “My mother lives. My father was killed in the war against the French. I have two brothers.”

  “Are you the oldest?”

  He shook his head. Zachariah and Two Guns would probably be back from the Onondaga council by now. “I am the youngest,” he answered.

  “I would have thought you were the oldest.”

  “Why?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. You look old, I guess.”

  He suddenly became annoyed again. “I am twenty-seven winters. That is not so old.”

  “Are you married?”

  Her boldness shocked him. Never would a Hodenosaunee woman have inquired so personal a question of a man whom she barely knew. He had been forward with his questions to her, but he was a man. Boldness in a woman was completely unacceptable. “We do not wed in white chapels with steeples like Knox would do.” His tone was purposely sarcastic.

  “What about your version of marriage then?”

  “And I suppose our version would disgust you, Onondio?” His annoyance was growing. The white eyes must certainly find her as rude as he did.

  “I didn’t say that. I just asked if you had a wife. It was a simple question.”

  “I have no wife.” He did not know why he had told her. He supposed mainly to end her meddling.

  “Why not?”

  The brass this woman had! He glared across the fire at her. She was looking at him as if she had every right to ask such personal questions. Adahya studied her face in the firelight, his annoyance turning fast to anger. Two could play her game.

  “Why is it, Onondio, that if Knox is not your husband as you claim, your father allowed you to come all the way out here alone and not provided for?”

  “Joshua provides for me.”

  “By leaving you alone while he goes to Albany?”

  She did not answer, and Adahya smiled, knowing he had won. He watched her toy with a twig near the fire. At last she replied, “I came here to teach.”

  “The Oneidas?”

  “Yes.”

  He grunted.

  * * *

  KATHERINE glared at the Indian. She had lied, but there was no other way to explain her reason for coming here. Winning Joshua’s love was her motive for everything she did, it seemed. She had followed Joshua around like a puppy ever since he had been assigned to her father’s parish. She had begged and pleaded to come here with him. Papa had been against it, but she had insisted that Joshua held feelings for her, and her father believed Joshua would eventually marry her. That, too, had been a lie.

  His glare was skeptical. “What kind of father allows his husbandless daughter to live with three men? That is not honorable.”

  “And what, pray tell, do you know about honor?” She clenched her teeth, infuriated by his superior attitude.

  “A Hodenosaunee man takes care of his women. He does not allow them to fight their battles for him. He especially does not allow them to be escorted to enemy forts by men they do not even know.”

  “How dare you judge me!”

  “I am asking questions as you have asked me all day,” he answered matter-of-factly. He seemed unaffected by her anger.

  “Well, I don’t appreciate it.” She turned her back to him and looked up at the starry sky. The moon was huge between the tree branches, and she wondered if Joshua was watching it too. They had always watched the night sky together. Joshua said he could feel God’s presence at night, that the stars were His windows to heaven.

  It had been five days since Joshua had told her he did not love her, that he could never love her. The memory of his words still stung as though he had said them only moments ago.

  She silently prayed that his trip to Albany would bring him prosperity and a safe return. And she also prayed for his change of heart.

  ***

  THE Indian was in a foul mood the next morning. Katherine, however, woke up refreshed and anxious. She had bathed in the stream, and her mood was joyous. She would do her best to stay positive today. Everything would work out for the best. She would return from Fort Ontario with news which would make Joshua proud. And he would fall in love with her.

  After a morning of walking in silence, she became determined to get the Indian to talk. He had not made any move to harm her last night, so she decided he was trustworthy enough. Now she was bored. Her legs ached, and she longed for conversation to take her mind off her discomfort.

  She hurried her pace to catch up to him. “Tell me about your family.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you are meddlesome.”

  Determined to get through his hard exterior if only for the sheer challenge of it, Katherine ignored his insults. “How many children do your brothers have?”

  “Zachariah has one boy. Two Guns has one boy and one girl.”

  “How old?”

  The Indian slowed his unnerving pace. “Zachariah’s is an infant. Two Guns’ boy is eight. His daughter is four.”

  “Do you love them?”

  He muttered something in Mohawk and shook his head.

  “Well, I was just asking.”

  “Why would I not love them?” His tone was heavy with sarcasm. “I am their uncle. They are my family. Of course I love them. Why would you even question such a thing?”

  Silence passed between
them again. The late morning was already sultry, and Katherine felt the weight of her heavy skirts becoming unbearable. Adahya had removed his soldier’s jacket and carried it slung over his shoulder.