Fire Dancer

by Colleen French

  Fire Dancer sighed as he twisted the stone pestle and ground more corn on the mortar between his feet. "I have not spoken to Laughing Woman on this matter."

  "She cared for the white woman for you, not for the white woman."

  "Laughing Woman is a good soul. This man has always known he could count on her friendship."

  "I think it is more than friendship she feels for you. She will be hurt by your relationship with the white woman with the flaming hair—whatever that relationship is . . ."

  Fire Dancer glanced away, trying to keep his emotions in check. Only with Gentle Bear could he share his vulnerability. It had always been that way, since they were boys. "I did not mean to fall in love with a white woman, Cub." He used his affectionate name for his friend, a name that had caused many a busted lip in their early years. "By the time I realized I was under her spell, it was too late."

  "Love is not an emotion we have control over, Fire Dancer." He picked up a handful of dirt and filtered it through his fingers. "And what is done is done and cannot be changed. Who is to say what is fate? Perhaps you were never meant to marry Laughing Woman. Perhaps this white woman is your true mate. Marry her and make her one of us."

  "The chief would never approve, even if I so wished such a union."

  Gentle Bear held up a meaty finger. "Ah, but the mother. How would she feel about her son finally taking a wife and giving her grandchildren?"

  Fire Dancer ground the corn kernels faster. He did not want to consider impossibilities. Of course, he couldn't marry Mackenzie. Shawnee princes did not marry white women. He would not allow himself to daydream of that which could never be. "Do we have to talk of this now? This man has more pressing concerns than finding a suitable wife."

  Gentle Bear tossed a piece of firewood onto the fire. "Ah , the likeness the white woman painted. Little Weaver told me. They say the Snake Man will make a decision on the proper form of reprisal. Perhaps you will not have to make the choice between women. Perhaps it will be done for you."

  Fire Dancer dumped more ground corn into the mixing bowl. "It is not just my own trouble that concerns me." He pounded the stone pestle harder. "After the Huron attack on the French delegate and then the fort, I fear the entire village is in danger. I feel at least partially responsible. And . . ." He paused. "And there is the matter of Okonsa."

  "Ah , Okonsa." Gentle Bear nodded. He and Okonsa were as much enemies as he and Fire Dancer were friends. "What of Okonsa? He has been pleasant since his return. Helpful. So friendly it scares this man."

  "He seems to be trying to fit in, to take responsibility, doesn't he?"

  "What is your concern? Perhaps a man can change." Gentle Bear shrugged his massive shoulders. "It is hard for this man to believe Okonsa could change, but stranger things have happened in this forest, no?"

  Fire Dancer chose to ignore his last remark. "The circumstances of the attack on the Frenchman DuBois were suspicious, as was the attack on the British fort. Okonsa was gone when the Frenchman was ambushed. He appeared as if by magic when the Hurons attacked the fort. I am suspicious and yet I feel guilty for my suspicion. Okonsa has done wrong things in the past, but he has never threatened such harm to our people. I cannot believe he would do such a deed."

  Gentle Bear took his time to answer. "It is a serious accusation to say you think your cousin might have played some part in the attacks. You were sent as peace negotiators. If Okonsa was a part of the attack, it would be the same as an attack upon his own people."

  "Ah," Fire Dancer said. "This is why I am hesitant to speak with Okonsa about what happened . . . or to speak to anyone else. I think I am better to watch him and wait. A poison snake always shows his fangs eventually, does he not?"

  Gentle Bear rose. "He does. You are wise to wait and watch, friend. And I will watch as well. Who knows? Perhaps he is innocent. This man must go see to his wife and son, but we will speak later, friend."

  "Later, Cub."

  "And Fire Dancer . . ."

  Fire Dancer glanced up. "Ah?"

  "I think you can stop grinding now. You have enough cornmeal there to make mush for the entire village."

  Fire Dancer frowned into the mixing bowl. He'd been so intent on the conversation that he hadn't paid attention to what he was doing. The bowl was filled to overflowing.

  Gentle Bear burst into laughter and walked away.

  Fire Dancer had the good sense to laugh with him.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Mackenzie awakened to find herself alone. She sat up and rubbed her eyes. The first thing she noticed was that Fire Dancer had moved his portrait. It now hung from a rafter too high off the floor for her to reach.

  She slid off the sleep platform. How did he know her so well? Obviously, he suspected she might attempt to destroy the portrait, otherwise why else would he have moved it?

  She yawned and smoothed her doeskin dress, fascinated by the fact that leather didn't wrinkle. "Fire Dancer?" she called softly. She glanced around the empty wigwam.

  Outside, she heard people laughing and talking. She could hear children's merry voices. A dog barked. From inside the wigwam, the Shawnee village sounded like any small town along the Chesapeake Bay.

  Hesitantly, Mackenzie walked to the door. Half-expecting a guard, she lifted the flap and peered outside. Three stark-naked boys raced past her, squealing with laughter as they kicked a leather ball. A naked girl busied herself hanging a doll's cradleboard on a tree branch. Fire Dancer had told Mackenzie that in the heat of the summer Shawnee children wore no clothing, but she still found it startling.

  To her right, Mackenzie spotted a woman her own age bathing a baby in a bark tub. Straight ahead, between the next two wigwams, identical to Fire Dancer's, two adolescent boys were digging a hole. What Mackenzie saw seemed harmless enough so she stepped out into the bright sunlight.

  Surrounded by forest, the village was situated between a ridge of mountains in the distance to the left and another to the right. Nothing looked familiar. The terrain was rockier and the air smelled different. How far had Fire Dancer brought her? In all of his talk of his village back at the fort, he had never once indicated where it was.

  Mackenzie noted that the heat of the summer had vanished. The air smelled not of fresh grass, but of drying leaves. It wasn't cold yet, but the air was cooler. Of course if she'd been unconscious two weeks, than it was nearly the first of October. Summer had left while she had slept.

  "Mack-en-zie. This man feared you had fallen into the great sleep again." Fire Dancer appeared at her side and took her hand. "Are you hungry? This man prepared food."

  She wondered how a man could kidnap a woman and then treat her with such courtesy and attentiveness. It probably made perfect sense to him. "I am hungry."

  He led her to an open cook fire in front of his wigwam. "Sit." He indicated a grass mat similar to the ones that covered the floor inside the wigwam. "This man will bring you food."

  Mackenzie sat cross-legged on the mat. The warm sun shone on her face and a light breeze blew her hair. "It's really not necessary that you serve me. I can get my own."

  He brought her a wooden bowl of what appeared to be corn mush. On the top, he sprinkled precious sugar. He handed her a crude wooden spoon. "Eat. Today is an important day for both of us, Mack-en-zie. We must have our strength."

  Skeptical, she tasted the mush, but found it to her liking. She took one bite and then another. "Today the holy man tells you what must be done with me?"

  "Ah . At dusk, we go before him. Now I must join the chief. There are decisions that will be made. The English will be looking for you. The French will be looking for me and my men. My people must decide if we will prepare to fight or if we will move our village." She glanced up at him over the rim of the wooden bowl. "You could let me go," she said casually.

  "Point me in the direction of the fort. I'll find my way on my own. I would never tell anyone where to find you. You know I wouldn't."

  He face remained stoic. "You und
erstand that I cannot do that, Mack-en-zie."

  She set down the bowl. "Fire Dancer—" she lowered her voice—"you wouldn't have to tell anyone. You could make it look like I simply escaped. I could—"

  He made no attempt to keep their conversation private. "This man does not have time to speak of this. I must go, but Laughing Woman will come. She will take you to the stream to bathe. Stay with her until I return from Council."

  She crossed her arms over her chest stubbornly. "You can't make me stay."

  He turned to walk away, then turned back to her. "This man will warn you. Do not try to escape when Laughing Woman takes you to the stream. There are braves who guard the village. They have my orders not to let you pass. If you try, this man will bind you to my lodge pole. Do you understand my words?"

  She said nothing and refused to make eye contact. Be damned if she'd make such a promise. If she had chance to escape, she would.

  "Mack-en-zie? You must give me your word, or I will bind you now."

  If she gave him her word, could she break it? Honesty meant so much to him that she wasn't sure she could disappoint him by lying or playing him false. She dragged her gaze from the ground to his solemn face. "Yes, yes, yes," she snapped. "I understand. I can't leave."

  With a nod, he walked off.

  Mackenzie picked up her bowl and crammed a spoon of cornmush into her mouth. No one paid any attention to her. Although she was surrounded by Indian men and women, there seemed to be some sort of rule about privacy. Surely those who spoke any English at all had heard what just went on between her and Fire Dancer. Even those who only spoke Algonquian must have known they quarreled. Yet the Shawnee all looked away discreetly and concentrated on their domestic tasks.

  Mackenzie had eaten half of the delicious corn mush when she saw Laughing Woman walk toward her. A little boy and a little girl hung on her hands. The naked children were twins and could not have been more that two years old.

  "It is good I see you awake," Laughing Woman called. Her smile lit up her face and she was strikingly beautiful.

  "Th . . . thank you."

  "You have feel good?"

  Mackenzie couldn't resist a smile. Laughing Woman's speech was difficult to follow, but Mackenzie quickly got the hang of it. "You speak English, too? Fire Dancer said he learned English from a Jesuit priest, but how do you come to speak it?"

  The Indian woman released both children and the babies toddled off in pursuit of an orange butterfly. "Our chief think it is good to know the words of the enemy." She bit down on her lower lip. "This woman did not mean to hurt. I do not call you enemy. You are friend to our Fire Dancer and no enemy to this woman."

  Mackenzie grinned, thankful for her consideration. "It's all right. Really. Considering what happened back at the fort, I can't honestly tell you who's on whose side anymore."

  Laughing Woman nodded and began to clean up the breakfast dishes. "This woman understand." She tilted her head one way and then the other in an exaggerated motion. "Men say friend, women say enemy. Women no see as easy as the men. This woman wish there was no enemy. Only friend."

  "Exactly," Mackenzie agreed.

  Laughing Woman chuckled as she sifted a big bowl filled with ground corn. "Look. This woman let Fire Dancer cook his mush one time and he grind enough corn for whole winter."

  Mackenzie chuckled with her. It was funny that Fire Dancer would grind so much corn. The woman's words also made her curious. What was her relationship with Fire Dancer? She felt a strange tightness in her chest. Was she jealous of this beautiful Indian woman? "Do you usually cook his meals?" she asked casually.

  Laughing Woman met Mackenzie's gaze. "This woman cooks when he la-lowe her. She make him loin cloth, soap. Laughing Woman have no man to care for." She smiled, as if reminiscing. "Like make Fire Dancer smile."

  So a relationship did exist between Laughing Woman and Fire Dancer, but just how intimate, Mackenzie couldn't deduce. Fire Dancer said there were no servants among his people, so she couldn't be his maid. She wasn't his sister. Who was she? She didn't feel right asking Laughing Woman, but she made a mental note to ask Fire Dancer later.

  Finished with her breakfast, Mackenzie accepted a gourd of cold water. "Are those your children?" she asked, making conversation.

  The Indian Woman turned to watch the little boy and girl now chasing each other around Fire Dancer's Wigwam. "Ah . When waiseeyah die, this woman have no one but babies in belly." She touched her flat abdomen. "Gift from Tapalamawatah. "

  Mackenzie guessed that she spoke of her husband by her tone of voice. So the children had been born after her husband's death. How sad , she thought. "You must miss him very much."

  "Ah." she knelt to wash Mackenzie's bowl in a bark bucket of water. "Not good be sad. My Waiseeyah go to great sky." She pointed upward with a wet hand.

  "Why-see-ya," Mackenzie repeated. "Is that the word for husband?"

  Laughing Woman chewed on her bottom lip in thought. "This woman not know English word. Waiseeyah." She tapped her heart. "Love of Laughing Woman." She pointed to the children. "Father."

  Mackenzie nodded. "Husband," She repeated. "That's got to be it. Waiseeyah. "

  "Hus-band," Laughing Woman mimicked.

  The two women smiled at each, both pleased by their ability to tackle the language differences and learn something in the process.

  "May I help you with cleaning?" Mackenzie asked. "Maybe doing something with all that corn meal?"

  Laughing Woman's eyes twinkled with amusement. "Mahtah . You were sick from head. You must rest. Get strong. This woman can clean up bowls. Then I think we pick the berries."

  As the Indian woman spoke, Mackenzie got the strange feeling that someone watched her, but when she looked around, she saw no one.

  "You think you strong to walk in field and pick berries?" Laughing Woman asked.

  "I think the sunshine would do me good." Mackenzie smiled. "I—" She spotted Okonsa standing behind a tree, beyond the next wigwam, staring directly at her. He gave her an arrogant grin and grasped his groin in his usual suggestive gesture. This time he lifted one black eyebrow in invitation.

  Mackenzie's first impulse was to shout something at him. Who did he think he was that he could be so obscene to her? She gritted her teeth. She bet he'd not behave thusly in front of Fire Dancer.

  "Mack-en-sie? Mack-en-sie?"

  Mackenzie shifted her gaze back to Laughing Woman. "Yes?"

  Laughing Woman's face was etched with concern. "You feel sick?" She knelt and felt her forehead. "Have need of rest?"

  Mackenzie looked back toward the tree. Okonsa was gone. She shuddered. "Mahtah , I'm fine. I'd love to pick berries with you and your children." She didn't mention Okonsa to Laughing Woman because what would she say? That he'd looked at her?

  "You want bathe after pick berries, ah"?" Laughing Woman rose. "Fire Dancer say take Mack-en-sie bathe with Laughing Woman and babies." Her gaze met Mackenzie's and she tapped her cheekbone. "He say no let white woman out of eyes."

  Mackenzie rose slowly. She still felt a little dizzy when she moved too quickly. So Laughing Woman had been sent to look after her, but also to guard her. "It would be nice to bathe." She pushed her dirty hair off her cheek. "And I'll not try to escape. I'd not put you danger of Fire Dancer's wrath."

  Laughing Woman didn't appear to understand.

  Mackenzie rephrased her words. "I won't run. I wouldn't want Fire Dancer to be mad at you."

  The Indian woman caught her daughter by the hand and reached for her son, speaking to them rapidly in Shawnee. She turned her attention back to Mackenzie. "Fire Dancer keep you here Shawnee village, you no want?"

  Mackenzie gave a sigh. "He took me from the fort, from my father. I have to go home. I want to go home."

  Laughing Woman thought for a moment before she replied. "Fire Dancer have good reason keep you, even if you no understand." She turned away, leading the children. "Even if this woman no understand."

  Tall Moccasin crept thro
ugh the grass on his hands and knees, keeping his head low, moving it one way and then the other in an attempt to imitate the bobcat. He wished he had made himself a tail to sway. How could he ever convince Snake Man that his totem was the bobcat, if he couldn't imagine that tail? He would have to try harder. He would have to concentrate on becoming the bobcat.

  Tall Moccasin, the bobcat, heard the sound of flowing water. He slinked out onto the flat, hot rocks of the streambed and lowered his head to drink, lapping the cold water with his fuzzy tongue.

  He knew he should get back to the village-den. He had strayed too far and his mother cat would be angry with him.

  Tall Moccasin lifted his head and water dribbled down his chin. He tried to slurp it up with his tongue. Staring straight ahead, he noticed a cylinder of smoke curling in the air. He wiggled his cat nose. The smoke had a strange, unrecognizable stench. Who would be in the forest burning a fire this time of day?

  Tall Moccasin glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the village. He felt torn between returning home before he was missed, and searching out the source of the smoke.

  After a moment's hesitation, he crawled across the shallow streambed, still on all fours. It was in a bobcat's nature to investigate, wasn't it?

  Tall Moccasin heard a man's voice on the wind. The man sang and talked. The voice sounded familiar. Tall Moccasin crept between the trees of the forest, ignoring the prick of dry pine needles and angry nettles on his palms and knees. His cat-curiosity had the best of him now.

  The voice grew clearer as Tall Moccasin drew closer to the source of the stinking smoke. Laughter echoed in the trees. Scary laughter.

  "Perfect. Perfect," the man said in Shawnee. "This one will work well. Only a few more prizes and this man will have a coat for the winter."

  Tall Moccasin sat back on his heels behind a patch of pokeberry plants and parted the leaves. His eyes widened. Uncle Okonsa? He made the stinking smoke and laughed like a crazy man? What was he doing? Tall Moccasin watched in fascination.