The Cumberland Bride

by Shannon McNear

  Thomas could not speak for a moment. “I am—I am sorry. Partly it was because I did not think you would want me to return. And partly because the sorrow of my white sisters was so great when I was first taken. My white father and mother had both died under hard circumstances, and I did not wish to add to their grief again.”

  The older man’s mouth firmed, but he nodded and pulled Thomas into a strong embrace. “You will always be my son. No matter the years or the distance. And I am glad you came back, even if it is only for a time.”

  “Thank you, my father.”

  Flying Clouds released him, then addressed Crying Bird, who looked only slightly less angry than before. “Let go of your anger, young one. This son of mine has come back from the dead but will not stay long. Your life is yet yours to live with joy, and to seek good, and mine has been lightened this day by knowing Eyes-of-Sky did not forget us.”

  Crying Bird made a noise of scorn and stalked away.

  The aging warrior then peered at Kate, who stood watching. A smile crinkled his face. “She is both lovely and brave. Where did you find her?”

  Thomas held his breath a moment. Here was where the favor of these people might prove most precarious. “I was hired to scout for her family’s travel into Kentucky. She has proved far braver than I knew.”

  “Is she truly your woman?” Flying Clouds asked quietly, his gaze searching.

  “It is my purpose that she be so very soon,” Thomas said. He could not bring himself to do aught but be perfectly truthful with this man.

  Flying Clouds’s smile deepened then faded. “Red Flower wishes to cling to old hurt, but she has another man and children. Her husband is away north—but we will speak of this later, yes? Have you eaten? Your woman there had just laid corn cakes on the ashes when you came.” He chuckled. “They may be burned by now.”

  Kate could not believe the corn cakes were still edible. Further still, she could not believe she was sitting here, watching Thomas and the older Indian converse as the father and son that Flying Clouds had avowed them to be.

  Thomas had but briefly explained, while they walked to Flying Clouds’s wegiwa, that the elders were calling for an assembly later to discuss what was to be done with Kate, whether they would allow her to leave with Thomas. He would not explain what Crying Bird had said. It was too little—always too little, and the old frustration rose to smother the initial gladness over his promise to tell her later.

  He’d begged her patience once more as they’d reached the wegiwa, then given nearly his complete attention to Flying Clouds. But as she ground meal to set more cakes in the ashes—what she’d prepared before was only for her and Flying Clouds, after all, not enough to feed Thomas’s appetite by far—and then resumed sweeping the floor while waiting for them to bake, Kate caught Thomas’s lingering glances even as he remained in deep discussion with the older man. Flying Clouds gave her the occasional encouraging smile as well, but judging by the growing tension in both of them, what they talked about must be of great import.

  She finished sweeping, checked the cakes, and found them done. Laying them carefully on the lovely blue-and-white china platter she’d been similarly astonished over, she brought them to the men. Thomas took his with the barest smile and word of thanks, but when she offered some to Flying Clouds, he placed a hand over hers and spoke a lengthy bit that had to be more than thanks. “He says,” Thomas translated, without prompting, yet with a strange catch in his voice, “that you have done yourself proud as my woman, and he is glad to have welcomed you as a daughter.”

  Kate froze. Thomas’s eyes were deep and shadowed, and held some emotion she could not in the moment name for the sudden fluttering of her heartbeat. She turned deliberately to Flying Clouds and smiled. “Thank you, sir. You honor me.”

  Another stream of words, as he beamed and patted her hand. Kate nodded then looked at Thomas, but to her shock, he opened his mouth as if to speak, but did not, his cheeks coloring.

  What on earth?

  Under Kate’s stare, he shook his head, looking even more discomfited, and muttered, “Later.”

  If the situation were not so precarious, as they sat in the middle of a people she’d been led all her life to believe were the enemy, speaking a tongue she’d had no knowledge of, she’d insist he tell her more right then. But their very life might depend upon how much grace and courtesy they maintained in the moment.

  Flying Clouds seemed as dissatisfied as she, however, and leaned forward, speaking with more urgency to Thomas. He spoke quickly back, but defensively, glancing at her and then away. Flying Clouds huffed and sat back.

  “Do you wish to lose her to Crying Bird then?” Flying Clouds demanded, after Thomas’s hasty explanation that Kate didn’t yet know he intended her to be his wife.

  The sly old man. Was he trying to make Thomas declare himself on the spot, with the comment Thomas had refused to translate—that she would be a fine woman for him?

  “I think I am safe enough from that,” he said, but his Shawnee father looked wholly unconvinced.

  “She ran to you, yes, but do not leave this to chance. I see Crying Bird’s anger and jealousy. If he finds a way to take her from you, any way at all… And I see from the way she looks at you that she knows there is more you are not saying. You should talk to her.”

  Thomas gave his attention to the still-hot corn cake Kate had handed him. His appetite was only slightly lessened by this being the second round, and these were baked to perfection, just as he’d remembered.

  Somehow Kate had learned to do this in the few days she’d been here. Did the wonder of this girl never cease? He looked up and found her still watching him, dark eyes puzzled. “These are some of the tastiest corn cakes I’ve ever had,” he mumbled around a mouthful.

  A smile flickered, but her brow remained knitted.

  He’d asked for her patience, and this was hard for all of them. With a frown of his own, he turned back to Flying Clouds. “You yourself said this matter should wait until the elders speak.”

  “That was when I thought she knew at least that you want her to be yours. If she does not know—” He shook his head. “You should settle this with her. We can talk of Wayne and the white soldiers later.”

  Thomas popped the rest of the cake in his mouth and chewing, leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “That is of importance as well.”

  Flying Clouds nodded gravely and rose. “But you will have time to decide your mind on that. Crying Bird may not wait on the other. And if your girl does not know for sure she is yours, she will be merely one more captive and not one of our people, after all.”

  The older man took the rest of his lunch and with another smile to Kate, left the wegiwa. Threading her fingers together, Kate watched him go, glanced back at Thomas, then turned and walked across the floor, where she sat down, back to him.

  The last of the cake turned dry in Thomas’s mouth. Of all the ways he’d imagined this might happen—

  He uncorked his canteen for a long drink. Closing it again, he considered Kate’s still, slender form, shadowed there on the other side of the wegiwa. Lord, give me the words, please. She deserves better than this.

  He crossed the floor and circling, knelt where he could watch her face. She didn’t look up, and he didn’t dare—yet—touch her. “I meant to ask what they call you here.”

  The smooth line of her throat moved with a swallow. “You should ask them.” Her glance skipped toward the doorway. “Likely something like Chattering Squirrel.”

  A hard-won laugh bubbled upward from his chest, and her mouth twisted in a wry smile. “Not knowing the language presents something of a difficulty there, I imagine,” he said.

  Her chin tucked again. “Crying Bird translates. Sometimes.” Her dark eyes came to his, briefly, before lowering. “Flying Clouds has asked me questions that I cannot answer, and—it makes Crying Bird suspicious.”

  “Of?”

  Her cheeks flushed, and her fingers worried the edge
of the serge skirt she wore. “He…kept asking me if I was your woman, and…I didn’t know how to answer. So I didn’t.” Once more her gaze flashed to his and away. “He said I didn’t know enough about your family—your white family, that is—to be your woman. But they were being so kind to me—on your behalf, they said—that I was afraid to say I wasn’t.”

  Her face was a deep crimson now.

  “And…and I realize now,” she stuttered on, to his silence, “what they must have been implying by that question. Of course I should have told them the truth—”

  He reached to lay his hand over hers, then eased close enough to trace the edge of her face where the golden strands of her hair framed it. Her breath caught and grew ragged, her eyes widening. Those lips he remembered as so soft, parting. “You can’t possibly even like me,” she plunged on. “But then—then—you kissed me, there in the forest, and it seemed easy enough to let Crying Bird believe what he wanted to.”

  Their faces were but a few inches apart. Her dark eyes luminous, not leaving his.

  “Katarina Gruener,” he murmured. “You’ve confounded me at every turn. Been—aye, you said it before—more than a bit of trouble now and again.” He smiled, hoping she’d hear it as the tease that he meant. “But I’d not change a thing, except—I’d be less unkind.”

  Her eyelids fluttered. “You were justified. I was a pest. And you were seeing to my family’s safety.” The lashes lowered. “As I proved that night the Indians took us.”

  “Kate.” He took her chin, made her look at him again. “I told your pa and mama already. Need to tell you now. I…I love you, and…and want you to be my wife.”

  She stilled completely, staring back at him with—was that hope? Disbelief? Fear and love mingled?

  This time, he took care to kiss her more gently, just a light touch at one corner of her mouth, then the other. Pulling back a fraction to gauge her response, before—

  The door flap of the wegiwa flew open. “The elders are ready,” Flying Clouds said.

  After pulling her to her feet, Thomas did not let go of her hand as they left the wegiwa and followed Flying Clouds to the longhouse. And it was a good thing, because she was still too stunned to have walked on her own.

  Why on earth would Thomas have said those words? Was he trying only to protect her, or—but he’d said he’d already talked to Mama and Papa. Heat swept through her at the thought. And that—likely the entire disaster of her being taken captive made such a thing necessary. But she’d not make him feel obligated to marry her, not even under these circumstances. She’d make sure he knew that once all this was settled and—

  But then he’d kissed her. Again. By all appearances looked as though he’d intended to keep doing so. And now with great determination led her through the town as if making sure everyone there saw that she was, indeed, his woman.

  Her whole form trembled so badly, she wasn’t sure she could go any farther than the longhouse.

  Once there, they were ushered inside and shown where to sit—near the front, in nearly the same spot Kate had been put that first day. Thomas placed himself next to her, and a short argument ensued on that arrangement, but at last the other man gave up and let Thomas stay. He leaned toward her. “You didn’t have time to answer me, but please, whatever else is said—please consider that you’re mine.” His eyes were a pale grey in the half-shadowed interior of the longhouse.

  Somehow she could not look away, could hardly breathe, and could manage only a nod. With a smile, he brought their clasped hands up to his face and kissed the back of her wrist. “They might be speaking too quickly here in the assembly for me to translate everything they’re saying,” he said, “but I’ll tell you as much as I can, later.”

  She could not stop the twist of her lips. “Always later.”

  His eyes gleamed suddenly. “Not always, Lord willing.”

  And that drove the last of the breath and composure from her, as one of the elders rose and began to speak.

  Lord, grant me patience here, and presence of mind!

  Because after that last exchange, all he wished was to haul Kate into his arms and kiss her as thoroughly as he had the first time. But their lives might depend upon him paying attention.

  “Crying Bird, you told us that first day that you and Grey Hawk found Eyes-of-Sky with this woman, the one calling herself Katarina, and that you believed she was his woman. You have changed your belief of this?”

  Crying Bird rose, with a bitter glance at Thomas. “It was my thought to see whether Eyes-of-Sky would come for her, because at the least he owed Flying Clouds the honor of a visit.”

  “We do not hold those taken away by the white soldiers responsible for what happened to them. Some returned, true, but those who do not? We choose to hold no bitterness over it. Why do you do so, Crying Bird?”

  His face hardened. “My sister, Red Flower, cried many tears after he was taken. He had made promises to her. He should not have made similar promises to this white woman without first making it right with Red Flower.”

  “But many years have passed since then,” the elder said. “Red Flower took a husband, has children, and has been pleased to live with them. Does she now wish to throw over her husband in favor of Eyes-of-Sky? Red Flower, what do you say to these things?”

  It made Thomas’s heart ache a little to see her rise from the middle of the assembly and throw him a look as dark as Crying Bird’s. True, he’d been taken and never returned, but he’d loved her once and wished her no ill.

  “As my brother says,” her voice rose, “I have a husband now. A good man. I do not wish to give him up.”

  The elder turned back to Crying Bird. “So Eyes-of-Sky came for his woman. And he has spoken with Flying Clouds. What do you want now?”

  “I wish to claim the right of the captor over this woman.”

  “To—keep her as slave then? The women have already sung the song of adoption over her, and taken her in as Eyes-of-Sky’s woman. That would be breaking our own customs.”

  “It is not breaking our customs if she was never his to begin with. He escaped and left her alone with us. Why would he do that?”

  The elder stared at him then nodded. “Eyes-of-Sky should speak now.”

  Thomas rose to his feet. Crying Bird remained standing, with arms folded over his chest.

  Lord God, I ask that You help me. Give me continued favor with these people. And give me the words. I plan to be as honest as I know how, here. Please—please honor that. And if You choose that I lose my life over this, then—please do not let Kate suffer.

  “I thank this assembly for hearing this matter out. I am Eyes-of-Sky, known among the white people as Thomas Bledsoe, and it is true that I’ve been too long away from my Shawnee family. I did not mean any hurt to them, and rejoice to see you all again, especially my father Flying Clouds.

  “When I met Crying Bird some days ago in the white town of Danville, his companions were bitter men, intending harm to white families only looking for a place to settle and live, who do not wish for war with either the Shawnee or our Cherokee brothers. And when Katarina and I were taken, it is true that I escaped and left her behind, but only with the thought of preserving the lives of her white family. She felt that if it were a choice between her life or theirs, her family’s lives were more important. And so I went to warn them that Crying Bird and the others meant to attack and thus stir up more trouble.

  “It was a hard decision. I did not willingly leave her. We are so recently a pair—”

  Thomas stopped and looked at her, face upturned, that same breathless hope and dozens of questions in her eyes as earlier. He smiled then reached down a hand. With the barest hesitation, she took it, and he tugged her to her feet.

  As he surveyed the assembly again—so many familiar faces, but some that were not—he felt Kate lean slightly into his side. He squeezed her hand. Hopefully she took that as encouragement. Red Flower looked away from them both with a sulky expression on her face.<
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  “Red Flower.” He drew a deep breath, offered another prayer for the right words. “I am sorry and ask you to forgive me for any hurt I caused. If I could make it up to you, I would, but this is how things happened and maybe—maybe it’s because the Great Spirit knows best what we need.”

  The bitterness did not completely leave her eyes as he spoke, but when he finished, she watched him for a moment, then gave a short nod.

  “As far as this woman then—this Katarina, she is mine. I thank you all for giving her honor for my sake, and for caring for her as one of your own. If you give me leave, I’ll take her and return to Kentucky, to her white family, but it’d please me to linger a few days.”

  He blew out a long breath, nodded to the assembly as a whole, and taking a firmer grip on Kate’s hand, settled himself to wait. This was not over by any means. The rest was up to the elders—and the Lord.

  Thank You for giving me the words.

  Quiet settled over the assembly, and the oldest of the elders shifted on his seat. “I see nothing more here to talk about. Eyes-of-Sky and his woman should be free to stay or go, as they please. Crying Bird, you should lay aside your anger and jealousy and seek the sunlight. Red Flower, you also should walk forward from what is past and live with joy with your children and, when he returns, your husband.”

  A murmur of agreement followed, but Crying Bird surged to his feet. “No! He should not be allowed to simply come back and do whatever he wishes. He should decide which he wants to be, Shawnee or white. He cannot be both. When he was taken away and never returned, he turned his back on his promise to be Shawnee. Do his actions of leading the white settlers into our ancient hunting grounds not bear witness to that? Why, then, do we welcome him back as a long-lost son?”

  A grumble rose at Crying Bird’s words. The elder rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “What do you think should be done then?”

  “I think—” Crying Bird turned the fury of his gaze upon Thomas. “That one should be burned. And then this one he claims is his woman should be given to me.”