Blackbird

by Henderson, Nancy

  Adahya brushed her tear away with his fingertip. “If it is love that you seek, I cannot promise that you will love Adahya, but I will honor you and keep you safe.”

  She had a death grip on his hands, she suddenly realized, and she let go of them. He was not going to make this easy for her. And there was no easy way to tell him the truth. “Adahya, I can’t live with you.”

  There. She said it.

  “You could think on it.”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “Women require much time to make up their minds.”

  “Adahya, I could never love you. I love--”

  “You love Knox,” he finished for her.

  “I--yes. Yes, I do love Reverend Knox.”

  His face went from that of kindness to the stone-cold glare he wore when she first met him. Without word, he left her and began gathering his belongings.

  “Adahya, I’m sorry. Please don’t be angry.”

  He shrugged on his jacket and slung his weapons over his shoulder. “Get your things. We will reach Fort Ontario by morning.”

  He walked off, leaving her there alone.

  * * *

  ADAHYA cut through the thick forest like a phantom spirit.

  He could not recall when he had loathed himself more. He had not spoken to another woman other than his mother and his sister-in-laws since Song left. It felt good to talk to a woman again, to have one show his some attention. But he had misjudged this meddlesome white woman and acted like a fool. To ask a woman to share his hearth after Song had walked all over him was one thing, but to ask a white woman, and to be rejected by her no less, was a whole other matter. From this day forward, he would have nothing to do with women. He vowed this on Hawenneyu and the Great Mother.

  “Adahya, wait!”

  She was far behind his pace, but he did not slow. Let her get lost out here for all he cared. It would serve her right. Except he did not want her to get lost. Alone, she would die out here, and he did not want her to die. He did not want any harm to come to her whatsoever.

  He did not know when these feelings of protectiveness for Katherine had come over him. He supposed it all began when she had first kissed him. These feelings were strong, and he had no clue as to how to make them cease.

  If he took her to Fort Ontario a noose would likely be waiting for her. Katherine’s death would be his fault. When he had first agreed to escort her, he knew she would be killed, yet he had not cared. He had only been in this for the trade goods which her death would bring to his people. Now everything had changed. She had rejected him, yes, but he still did not want her to die. He could not let her die.

  They were not more than ten miles from Fort Ontario. He would tell her he had lied to her, betrayed her, plotted to kill her. He could tell her this truth then take her back to Knox. He did not know which plan he despised more: telling her he had betrayed her or taking her to back to Knox knowing she might be lying in the bastard’s arms that night.

  He had no choice. He could not take her to the fort to be killed, and he could not take her back to Knox. He would take her to his village. He had no other choice. He would take her by force if necessary. He would keep her at his hearth until she forgot Knox. Adahya would make Katherine his woman, and she would learn to stay with him, regardless whether she loved him or not.

  Adahya’s spirits lifted. Katherine would become his woman. And it would be different this time. Katherine was not Song. She was not vain and cold. And she would never leave him. He would not let her. He would not lose another woman.

  Adahya waited for Katherine to catch up to him. She looked at him, questioning in her gray eyes. Smiling, he resumed walking. Cross-cutting off his original path, he turned east and led her toward the Mohawk Valley.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THOMAS Whitman paced the floor of the mission. Reverend Knox would be here soon. He prayed it would not be too late.

  Kate had been gone four days now. He could not believe it when Robert had told him what she had done, and he would never forgive himself for not being there to stop her. The girl was headstrong as Hades, but he did not think she was bloody stupid. It was senseless enough to go to Fort Ontario where it was crawling with women-starved Redcoats. But to go with a Mohawk Indian….

  He cursed Robert a thousands times over for allowing her to go with the red bastard.

  This was all the Reverend’s fault. If she had not been so infatuated, she would have used her head and never left in the first place. She was only trying to win his favor. Anyone could see that Knox did not care two bits for her. He was too wrapped up in his work. Kate was smart, sweet, and pretty as a peach. Knox was a fool to deny her. Any man would be.

  Robert suddenly bolted through the doorway. “He’s back!”

  * * *

  URGING his horse out of the trees, Joshua Knox rode up to the mission.

  His assistant, Thomas, ran out of the building and lunged at the gelding’s bridle

  The horse spooked and tried to rear back, but Joshua held fast to the reins. “What’s wrong, Tom?”

  “She’s gone!”

  “Who?” Joshua asked, jumping down from the horse.

  “K-k-kate. She’s g-g-g-gone. She’s gone.”

  Joshua gripped his assistant’s shoulders. At twenty-four, Thomas was a bright and gifted servant of God with a prosperous future ahead of him. But when he was troubled, one could not understand a blessed thing that came out of his mouth.

  “Speak slowly, Thomas. Where did she go?”

  “S-S-Savage. He t-t-took her.”

  “Took her?”

  Joshua stared at Tom. He had half expected Kate to be gone when he returned, figuring she would take a horse and ride back to her father in Albany. In a moment of weakness, he had kissed her. She had been sitting so close to him, looking doe-eyed and full of adoration. It had been a mistake. They were simply friends. Nothing more. One day he hoped to take a wife, but it would not be Kate. She was a good girl and would make some man a good wife, but he sought a woman more reserved and less outspoken.

  He gripped Thomas’ shoulders. “You mean to tell me that a savage just came here and took her?”

  “N-no. She went willingly.”

  “An Oneida? Maybe she just went to see Little River.”

  Thomas shook his head wildly. “N-no. M-Mohawk.”

  “How do you know he was Mohawk?”

  “R-r-r-red-- T-tell him, Robert.”

  “He was wearing a Redcoat’s jacket,” the boy answered for Thomas.

  Knox looked at the teenager. Tall and lanky, Robert nearly reached Thomas’ full six-feet-four height. The boy looked like he was going to cry. “Kate said the savage would take her to Fort Ontario. The Indian wanted you, but Kate asked him to take her instead.”

  “She wanted to sp-sp-speak to Colonel Butler,” Thomas broke in.

  Robert nodded. “She said something about some papers.”

  “My documents!”Joshua blurted.

  Dashing into the mission, he made his way upstairs to the desk in the corner of his sleeping quarters. Furiously, he yanked open the drawers, sending their contents flying in every direction.

  He ran a hand through his thick blonde hair. He was ruined. Kate had ruined him. She had known that he recorded all his dealings with the Oneidas and the Colonial cause, and he knew she would never intentionally destroy him. But Kate knew nothing about the church money, the tithes which he had taken to buy trade goods to win the Oneidas’ support in this war--no one did. Many had accused him of putting the war before his obligations to God, that was, after all what Reverend Wheellock had wanted to speak to him about in Albany, what he had warned him about. Joshua knew he put the Colonial cause before his church, before God Himself, in fact, but he could not help it. This was important. The dream of a new democratically-run country was important. Surely God would understand that.

  If those records fell into the hands of the church members--of Reverend Wheellock!--he would never preach
again. And when the British saw them, they would hang him for treason. He was ruined. He was a sitting duck here.

  Tossing his trunk onto the foot of his bed, he began throwing in his belongings.

  “What are you doing?” Thomas was calmer now, and his voice was strong and steady.

  “I’ve got to get out of here.”

  “Why? We’re got to find Kate. What’s wrong with you?”

  “I’ve got to leave here.”

  “You’ve got to help me find Kate.”

  Wide-eyed, Joshua shook his head. They would kill her, he knew. For all they knew, she could be dead already. Kate was a sweet girl. She did not deserve such a fate, and he quickly prayed that they would be merciful and bring death to her swiftly without suffering. But for all of them to follow her and get killed themselves.

  That was senseless. He had to leave.

  Blocking his path, Thomas just glared at him.

  “Well, you can’t expect to go there,” Joshua reasoned. “Thomas, you will be murdered.”

  “And what of Kate? My God, Knox! The woman is in love with you, and you d-d-d-on’t even care if she dies!”

  “You coward. You don’t even care what’s happened to her, do you?” Thomas removed the wooden cross from around his neck--the one Joshua had given him when he first came to work at the mission. Angrily, he threw it on the floor. “You keep it!”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  KATHERINE did not understand why they had not arrived at the fort by now.

  Back at the pond, Adahya had said they would arrive by morning, but that had been days ago. When she would ask him where they were or why they were taking so long to arrive he would change the subject by telling her stories of stone giants or flying heads or winged serpents. He did not seem angry with her, and she was glad. She hoped they could somehow remain friends after this was all over and she was back at the mission, but she doubted she would never see him again after that. The thought left her with a strange empty feeling.

  They stopped at midday, and Katherine sat on a fallen log, her feet aching. The left heel of her shoe had fallen off hours ago when she had tripped over a tree root. She tried to remove the remaining heel on her right shoe by pounding with her fist, but it would not budge.

  Adahya squatted down in front of her. Without asking, he grasped her ankle and chopped off her boot heel with one swipe of his tomahawk.

  “Thank you.”

  He met her gaze, but remained silent. She did not understand why he was so quiet all of a sudden. She watched him as he stood and slid his weapon back in his belt. “You never told me who taught you English,” she said to start him talking.

  “Chief Thayendanegea.”

  “Who’s that?”

  Adahya sat down beside her. He sighed deeply, and she wondered if he felt all right. He looked exhausted.

  “Thayendanegea is a Ganeagaono war chief, and he is a good friend. Perhaps your Knox has heard of him as Joseph Brant.”

  Katherine nodded. She had heard Joshua and Thomas speak of him often. A Mohawk Indian, Joseph Brant, was a friend to the Johnsons and the Butlers. He assisted in running the British Indian Department for them and getting the Iroquois people to side with England’s cause. He was highly educated and also served as an interpreter for the Mohawk Anglican mission. Joshua said he had translated the Bible to the Mohawk language, and he had admired the Mohawk’s devotion to God. Brant sought to bring Christianity to his people as diligently as he did the British cause. But Joshua said he was also a loaded weapon ready to go off.

  “They say he will bring down an Indian massacre on every Colonial settlement soon,” she said.

  Adahya grunted. “He is only defending what your kind took from us.”

  “We didn’t take anything from you.”

  “What land did you build your mission on?”

  “The Oneidas gave us that land.”

  His jaw clenched, and his eyes narrowed. “And what did you give them in return?”‘

  “Knowledge and the love of God.”

  He grunted. Cold dignity transformed his expression into a stony mask. “The Colonials will not protect the Oneidas after this war is won. Face facts, Chogan. The Colonials will not win this war. They cannot win. They have no riches, no king to guide them as the British do. The French could not even beat the British. What makes your kind think they can?”

  Katherine had no answer, so she let the argument drop. Whether it was the heat or Adahya’s mood, her head began to ache. She rubbed her temples. “You could learn to read, you know.” She looked up, pleased with herself at the prospect of teaching--and seeing him again. “You could come by the mission. I’d teach you.”

  “And what else would you teach me, Chogan?” There was bridled anger in his voice. “Will Knox come to watch this time?”

  Katherine’s heart pounded in her chest, and her face grew hot with humiliation and embarrassment. “You could accomplish great things through use of intellect instead of war and violence.”

  He gripped his tomahawk, his eyes burning, reproachful. “This has gotten me where I am today, not talk.”

  Adahya rose and began pacing in front of her. Something was not right, but she could not put her finger on what it was. He was angry and spooked for some reason, and it made her nervous. “Aren’t you hungry?” she asked him. Her own stomach was growling loudly.

  He stopped pacing. He looked at her as if she had startled him. “Adahya, what’s wrong? You’re acting funny.”

  Panic set in. Something was not right. Adahya was not right. She stood, backed from him.

  He came toward her. “Katherine, do not make this difficult for me.”

  “What are you doing?”

  Adahya had taken a length of rope from his bag which he now wound around his fist. Katherine backed away. She did not like the look in the Indian’s eyes, and she did not like the rope in his hands.

  She had let her guard down. She had let him win her trust. Now he was going to do something terrible to her. She had teased him, kissed him, let him feel her entire person. Then rejected him. Now he was going to get his revenge. He was going to tie her up and rape her. Then he would kill her.

  She tore between the trees. Branches caught her tangled hair, stabbed at her eyes, tore her dress. He was close behind her, but she ran harder. She zigzagged through the thickets, scratching her legs. Her ankle caught on a fallen log, and she fell.

  The Indian was on her before she could get up. She screamed, and he clamped a hand over her mouth. She bit down until she tasted blood.

  “Don’t kill me. Please. Please. Oh, God. Please don’t kill me.”

  Pinning her wrists above her head, he held her thrashing body down with his own weight. He was heavy upon her, and she fought for breath. He would rape her now.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. This was too much to bear. She had been so stupid! Of all the things Joshua had warned her about Indians it was to never trust them. And she had not listened. She had not listened to anyone her whole life!

  “Katherine, stop crying.”

  Katherine opened her eyes to find Adahya’s face inches within her own. He tried to wipe her tears with his thumb, but she pushed him away, revolted by his touch.

  “Katherine, I will not hurt you. You must be still.”

  “What are you going to do with me?”

  “I am taking you someplace, but I must do this or else you will run.” His eyes looked apologetic. “I gave you a choice. Now this is the only way.”

  She did not understand what he meant, and she shut her eyes again to block the sight of him. Quickly, with one hand still pinning down her wrists, he grabbed the rope and began binding her wrists together. Katherine flailed under his weight, but she was no match for him. As if he had done this a hundred times before, he effortlessly bound her arms hands immobile.

  He rolled off her and stood. He took hold of her wrists and pulled her to her feet.

  The longer he searched her expression, the more infur
iated she became at her vulnerability to him. “I will not be treated this way! Untie me at once!”

  Without word, he pulled on her ropes, but she dug in her heels, refusing to follow. “I will not go with you.”

  “You will, or I will bind your feet and carry you. I have given you my word not to harm you.”

  “I won’t go.”

  He pulled her forward, and they broke through a clearing.

  Katherine was not sure if she had really screamed or just thought she had. Where she had expected to find Fort Ontario stood a fortification of another sort. The stockade wall rose over eight feet high. It was made with timbers which had been sharpened on the ends, as if to impale anyone who dared escape. Mohawks were everywhere, and they spotted Adahya and began opening the gate for him.