Roam: Time Walkers World Special Edition

by E. B. Brown

  “Believe me or not, lamb, that’s yer right. Ye know I came through time to fetch my son, ye see me standing here before ye. Have I ever failed you? Have I ever let anyone bring harm to ye? I know I deserve your anger now, but give me some credit. I’m still the man who raised ye.”

  She had no answer for that statement, trying her best to control the swell of tears that threatened to burst.

  “My parents. They were Time Walkers, too?” she choked.

  Maggie felt his presence beside her. She closed her eyes as he put his hands on her shoulders. He nodded.

  “They are gone, like many of the others.”

  “What happened to Benjamin’s mother then? Did she really leave you? Tell me all of it,” she demanded.

  “Young Helgrid. We were betrothed as children. She made it through to your time with us.”

  “Is she dead too?”

  “She’s gone. She left when Benjamin was a lad, I don’t know where she ended up. She couldn’t handle the future, not like the rest of us. But Benjamin–”

  “Your son is a good man. Both sons. Both are good men,” she murmured. She felt his fingers tighten on her arms.

  “Will ye tell me of him? Of them?” he asked. “I didn’t know about him–about Winn. His mother said nothing, you must believe that.”

  She sighed.

  “Put away your weapons, and go up to the house. Teyas will let you in. I need to find Winn, he deserves to hear this.”

  “I’ll go for the boy,” Marcus quickly offered.

  Maggie shook her head.

  “No, I’ll do it. He grabbed his bow before he left, I have no doubt he’d shoot your ass,” she muttered. “And Marcus?” she added.

  “Yes?”

  “Don’t call him ‘boy.’ I don’t think he’d take that very well, coming from you.”

  She pointed to the cabin to shoo him away, and left to find her husband.

  He was not difficult to locate. She found him sitting on a flat rock that jutted out over the edge of the shallow stream, a secluded spot they used for bathing. She felt his muscles tense and then relax when she put her arms around his shoulders and sat down behind him.

  “Will you come home soon?” she asked. Her hands crossed over his chest, and he placed his hand on hers. When she pressed a gentle kiss to his neck, she could taste the bitterness of honeysuckle soap and salty sweat, the scent of the earth fresh upon his skin.

  “Yes, I will,” he said quietly.

  “He says he didn’t know about you.”

  “He speaks lies.”

  Winn caressed her hand with his thumb and then raised her hands to his lips to kiss her palms, one by one, hesitating for a moment over the faded silver scar knotted on her skin.

  “Come home now, husband,” she said softly, her voice lowering an octave.

  “I would cause you pain, ntehem, when I send him away.”

  “Don’t make him leave. At least talk to him first,” she urged.

  She felt his muscles stiffen beneath her fingers, his chest tensed as he passed slow shallow breaths.

  “Please. I’m only asking you to talk to him. If you still want him to leave then, it’s up to you.”

  He stood then and pulled her to her feet beside him.

  “Come on. I will hear his words, and then send him away.”

  Maggie kept her relief hidden as they walked back to the yard. Her husband had already killed one man that day, and Marcus another. Perhaps they could yet avoid more bloodshed.

  *****

  The threesome was sitting around the table when Maggie and Winn arrived, sharing the new batch of blackberry tea and passing around a basket of fresh bread. Kwetii sat happily on Marcus’s lap, gumming a piece of crust, while Teyas tried to persuade the child to take a drink. Maggie was pleased to see Teyas had scrounged up a white trade shirt for Marcus, and he looked as if he had cleaned up a bit.

  Kwetii squealed and held up her arms at the sight of her father. Maggie held her breath as Winn went to her. She could see it in his eyes as he glared at Marcus, the shadow of a strong little boy who grew up fighting for every scrap of respect he garnered. Sometimes loved, sometimes an outcast because of his heritage, Winn had lived as many lives as his Time Walker father, learning to adapt and survive no matter where his uncle sent him. Now as she watched her husband with his father, she wondered if there was any sliver of hope left for peace between them.

  “Here, lamb, go to your da,” Marcus said, urging the child to Winn. Kwetii climbed into her father’s arms and smothered him with sloppy kisses.

  “Hungry?” Teyas asked, breaking the silence. Maggie took a seat next to her.

  “Starving,” she murmured. Marcus and Winn did not acknowledge each other, but Winn sat down across from her and she was grateful he relented enough to join them. Kwetii babbled happily and picked at her father’s food, trying to help him eat.

  “Do you want me to take her?” she asked. Winn shook his head, barely raising his eyes in acknowledgement.

  The silence was blessedly broken by the door swinging open. Winn’s brothers returned fresh from a trip to the outpost, bags full of supplies slung over their shoulders. Rebecca and Ahi Kekeleksu followed close behind. Chetan halted at the sight of Marcus and put his hand on his young son’s shoulder, stopping Ahi Kekeleksu from going near Marcus. The boy stared wordlessly at them, his eyes wide under his thick dark lashes as he waited for his father’s command.

  “Chama Wingapo,” Chetan said slowly in welcome with a glance to Winn. Chetan stood motionless in survey of the stranger, his arms tensed at the sides of his thick-barreled chest. Maggie noticed the quick exchange between the brothers; a slightly raised brow, a twist in the corner of a lip, and an imperceptible nod. It took only a split second for Winn to convey his approval to his brothers. Chetan let go of Ahi Kekeleksu.

  “Wanishi, friend,” Marcus replied.

  Maggie listened as the men exchanged cordial greetings in Paspahegh. She was by no means fluent in the language, but she had a conversational knowledge and understood a few of the words. She expected a show of surprise from Chetan when Marcus communicated as such, yet Chetan remained impassive. Always the calm one, Chetan regarded most situations in a peaceful manner, yet like his brothers, he was no man to tangle with. She had only seen him so provoked one time, and that had been immediately prior to the massacre when he helped save her from the English.

  “What are they saying?” she whispered to Teyas. Teyas rolled her eyes.

  “They act like wolves. They piss on their territory.”

  “Oh, Christ,” Maggie replied. The men continued to speak rapidly amongst themselves. She noticed Ahi Kekeleksu standing aside, focused on the exchange as he tore off pieces of his ration of bread and stuffed them into his mouth.

  Makedewa listened to the banter as well, adopting his usual disposition when matters annoyed him. The younger brother of the three, he was easily angered, full of rash temper and quick displays of aggression when provoked. He had become a bit less intimidating in the time she had known him, but Maggie still steered clear of him when he had a sour look on his face. Apparently he did not care for the tone of the discussion, his mouth clamped shut in a thin line and his arms folded over his wiry chest as he observed.

  Winn said something loudly, causing the others to fall silent for a moment. She could see the way Marcus clenched his jaw through narrowed lips. He looked her way, his eyes meeting hers before he spoke.

  “I told yer wife as I tell ye now, take my word or no. I knew naught of ye until this day. If I could change it I would, but I cannot, and I am sorry for it.”

  She bunched the edge of her cotton shift in her hand, waiting for Winn’s response.

  “Keep your words. You came for Benjamin. You may stay until you find him and no longer,” Winn said. He would not look her way as he spoke, his gaze fixed instead on Marcus.

  “I need yer help. That’s why I tracked ye down. That, and to see Maggie safe.” Marcus sighed. “I
don’t know how much Maggie has told ye of the future. They keep records then, more than you can imagine. After I found Maggie’s letter, I found quite a lot of information on Benjamin…and on you and Maggie. You’d be surprised what people keep records of.”

  “About Winn and I? What records?” she interrupted. Marcus squinted and looked down at his drink, avoiding her gaze.

  “Ah, land records, for one. That’s how I knew where to find you. This head right of yours is unique. How did ye manage to convince the English to give ye a head right property, being a Paspahegh…and you, Maggie, now you’re the same, according to the English, anyway.”33

  “I serve as counsel to the English for my uncle. The English trust me for now,” Winn answered.

  “Do they trust ye enough to give ye information on Benjamin?” Marcus asked.

  Winn nodded. “I know men who will talk. I will leave for Jamestown when the sun rises, if he was there, the English will tell me.” Winn finally met her gaze before he spoke further. “You can ride there with me if you wish.”

  She saw Marcus relax his shoulders.

  “Yes, I will. Thank ye,” Marcus replied.

  “Makedewa,” Winn said, “you can tell me about this foolish coat you wear. Join me outside, brother, I need more hands to see to the horses.”

  Winn effectively ended the conversation, putting Kwetii on the ground. The toddler scurried to Rebecca and held up her hands, and the girl immediately picked her up.

  Maggie watched Winn leave with his brother. Makedewa wore a scarlet coat studded with brass buttons, obviously obtained from one of the English soldiers.

  “Do I want to know how he got that coat, Chetan?” she asked, expecting a straight answer from the more reliable of the two. Chetan grinned, a gesture that did not convey any reassurance to her.

  “No Englishman died, Fire Heart. Makedewa is good at dice, especially when the soldiers drink rum. Mind your business, sister,” he chuckled, using a phrase from her own repertoire. She jabbed him with her elbow and joined his laughter.

  “Yeah, mind my business. Sure,” she replied.

  If only she could take such advice.

  CHAPTER 5

  Maggie

  HER LAUGHTER TAPERED off when Chetan followed his brothers outside. She would need to figure out a place for Marcus to sleep, preferably outside, but she was not sure where the best place would be. Of the two yehakins, she shared one with Winn, and his brothers shared the other with Chetan’s son, Ahi Kekeleksu. Teyas and Rebecca slept in the cottage loft, leaving the small room in the rear of the cottage available, but she was reluctant to subject Rebecca to a stranger in the cottage. Although she was still angry at Marcus, it made little sense to see him sleep in the barn when there was a perfectly good cot available inside.

  “I’ll tend to my horse with the others,” Marcus said.

  “I’m sure the brothers will take care of it, it’s no problem,” Maggie replied. “Leave them be for now. Don’t you think we should all just cool off? There’s been a lot to take in today.”

  Marcus nodded.

  “Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” he said quietly. “There sure has.”

  She heard the pause in his words as he looked out the window at the brothers. Suddenly she felt like a complete fool. Yes, Marcus had kept things from her, important things, but she was not so dense that she didn’t understand why. As she watched her daughter playing, she could see exactly why Marcus and her grandfather kept the truth from her. She would do the same to protect her child from such dangerous magic.

  She remembered the day when Benjamin disappeared as a boy and the pain it caused Marcus to lose his young son. Marcus had changed that day, from a man who laughed easily to one who rarely smiled. Though still loyal to fault and protective of his family, the loss of his child had changed him. Now as he stared out the window at the son he didn’t know he had, she could see in him a fragment of the desolate bereaved parent he once was. Though he had traveled to the past to find one son, he now had two to consider, and she could hardly imagine how the man must be feeling.

  “We shall take Kwetii to yer yehakin, if it pleases ye, Maggie,” Rebecca said, breaking the silence. Kwetii grabbed the cap off Rebecca’s head when the young woman lifted her up, causing her springy blond curls to fall loose.

  “Thank you,” Maggie replied. “I brought a bundle of garments back from trade with the Chosicks. You can take a look if you like.”

  Rebecca preferred the English manner of dress and continued to wear a heavy layered skirt over her shift with a jacket bodice fitted snugly over it, despite the constrictions it caused in the warm summer months. Maggie made the offer knowing Rebecca would likely refuse, but she was determined to keep trying to help her be more comfortable.

  “Nay, I like my own just fine. G’night to ye.”

  Maggie gave Kwetii a kiss before she went off to bed. Rebecca adjusted the child on her hip and followed Teyas out the door, sneaking a glance at Marcus as she passed.

  “Night,” Maggie answered. “I’ll be there soon, sweetheart.”

  When the door closed behind the women, she sat down heavily on the bench next to Marcus. She propped her elbows on the table and rested her head in her hands for a moment, the events of the day sinking in as she let out a sigh.

  “Don’t ye pass out. Yer husband will blame me for that as well,” Marcus said.

  “Yes, he would. He’s a good man. He would give his life to protect his family, if it was necessary,” she answered softly. “He’s had a hard time of it, Marcus. He was shuttled around by his uncle to live wherever it suited him best–he lived with the Nansemond, the Paspahegh, and …” her words trailed off as she looked into his eyes. “With the English. He lived with Benjamin’s family for two summers. They were like brothers.”

  “Like brothers,” Marcus said, the corner of his lip dipping downward. “Aye, it must have been hard on the lad.”

  He ran his hands through his thick dark hair, the color of his skin flushed from neck to ears. He rose and thrust the wooden bench back with one quick shove, nearly causing her seat to topple as he arched his back and stared upward, as if begging the heavens for guidance.

  “I never meant to cause this trouble. I thought to see you safe, find my lad, and have words with yer husband…now this. My son? Benjamin is likely dead, and yer husband willna forgive me.”

  She shook her head.

  “You’re wrong on both counts. Benjamin is too damn stubborn to be dead. And Winn? Winn will come around. He just needs time. After a good night’s rest, I think we’ll all see things more clearly, right?”

  She stuck her hand in the stitched pocket of her shift, which was belted over her short doeskin skirt. It took a moment to find it, but when she pulled out the raven figure his response was quick. His eyes softened and rimmed with moisture at the sight of it. He reached out for it, palm up, but then pulled his hand back.

  “You had that all this time?” he choked.

  “Yes. I think it sent me here. There’s a reason for everything, Marcus, I’m more convinced of that than ever now.”

  He crossed his arms over chest, the thin white fabric of the trade shirt stretched to near tearing over his shoulders.

  “When did ye turn into such an optimist? I hardly recognize ye!”

  It felt good to smile, and hearing him joke opened the doorway to the playful banter they once shared.

  “Optimist? That’s about the only thing I haven’t been accused of in this time,” she laughed. She reached for his hand and squeezed it. “We have a lot to catch up on.”

  *****

  She waited as long as she could for Winn to retire to their yehakin, but as the night wore on the excitement of the day grew heavy and she succumbed to the fatigue to lie down without him. Should she search for him, or let him come home on his own? Perhaps the company of his brothers was what he needed, instead of his wife, who would ask him to forget the past and welcome his long-lost father.

  What el
se could she do? Winn, the one who knew her best of all. He knew how much she loved Marcus, how the man had been family to her. Would he hold onto his anger, and follow through with the promise he made her long ago– the vow to kill his father should he ever meet him?

  As much as she knew her husband, she admittedly knew little of the warrior he had been before they met. She could only guess upon it from the manner in which others regarded him. Even when his brothers voiced dissent, they still deferred to Winn’s decisions on every matter despite the fact they no longer lived with the Paspahegh tribe and Winn was War Chief no more. Yet as she lay beside him at night and traced the winding tattoo upon his flat belly, she could recall the meaning of each mark as he conveyed it to her.

  “This one, here,” he said, “Is for the first man I killed. This part, here, is for the day I became a man. And this, this one shows I am different, that I am not true Paspahegh, that I carry the blood of the whites in my veins.”

  No, there were some things about him she might never truly understand. Nor did she need to. There was no reason for her to know how many he had killed, or when, or why. She did not ask it of him after the massacre, and she would not ask it now. It was his past, a part of him he could share if he chose, or hold onto if not.

  Her eyes had just closed when he slipped into the yehakin. With his usual stealth he slid between the furs behind her, placing his arms around her to pull her against his chest. The heat of the day had skittered away and she snuggled into the warmth of his skin against her back. She smiled as his lips ran over her ear and he placed a soft kiss against her neck.

  “Winn?” she said softly as he gripped her chin with one hand. His warm mouth closed over hers, silencing both her words and her thoughts. She could feel the need in his touch when he twisted her around to face him and moved his body over hers. His fingers pulled at the binding on her shift and then with a frustrated groan he pushed it up above her breasts, giving no answer to her question with words, yet answering her quite clear as his hips bore down on hers. With all that had happened that day, she was flustered to feel the desire in his touch. Yet still she welcomed it.