I slowly stirred the mush in the pot and checked the biscuits I had put in the cast-iron Dutch oven which was placed on the hearth next to the fire. It had been warming for over an hour before I ever made the dough. It didn’t take long before Wolf returned, shaking the snow off of his shoulders and out of his hair before sitting down at the table again. When the mush finished cooking, I dished some in a bowl for him and put honey and milk over it. I offered him hand churned butter I had made with the cream I skimmed when I milked the cow and gave him some biscuits to spread it on. Then I dished myself up. He had already sampled my cooking on our original trek to his village, but he still seemed pleased with the meal, as he smiled broadly at me while he ate.
His eyes constantly darted up at me between bites. I wondered what he was thinking? I could barely breathe, knowing he was in my home and remembering his previous treatment of me. Only I couldn’t help but remember the last time he took me beside the river. The way he had looked at me and touched me. The way he made sure I was enjoying his caresses. Was it because he actually loved me, or because he knew he could never have me as his wife and may have to give me up if I did not birth him any children? I thought of all the times we had played together in the stream and touched each other’s bodies with no shame or hesitation before everything suddenly was changed by a single kiss.
His moods changed too drastically, I told myself. I didn’t know if I would ever be able to trust him? I reminded myself to be cautious. Even though I understood his language, I did not understand him. He may be trying to trick me in some way. If I ever left my home and followed him back to his new village, I would be under his power again. I may regret it, I warned myself. Only, for now, we were destined to remain together over the winter. Even if I insisted, I doubt he would leave me, and I wondered if I wanted him to?
When the meal was over, I took Wolf out to the barn, and handed him the milk bucket, telling him to milk the cow. He seemed to know how to do it, so I left him to his task and went back in the house to clean up the dishes and start on my own daily routine. As I washed the dishes, he brought the milk in and I skimmed the cream off putting it in one crock and pouring the milk into an earthen pitcher. I stored them in the ‘cool cupboard’ which was located on the north side of the kitchen. It had a small window up high, covered with cheese cloth to let the cool air in at night while keeping the bugs out. The bottom of the shelf was drilled with holes, opening into the cellar, which helped the cupboard remain cool. In the winter, we cut ice from the pond to put in the cellar which kept it cool most of the year until the blocks of ice melted and we replaced them the next year. There we could store meat before we smoked it, or dried it, and keep larger amounts of food cool, which we did not use as often. The cool cupboard usually held milk, eggs, cheese, butter, and sometimes pudding we made to have with our meals. We also kept bread or cakes there so they wouldn’t start to mold too soon.
I would have to make Wolf chop ice out of the pond, once it froze over, to replenish the ice in the cellar, which had melted already, I reminded myself. I gave Wolf a sideways glance, as he stood and watched me washing the dishes. Then I pulled a dish towel off the hook and handed it to him, showing him how to dry the dishes and where to put them. Many of my mother’s best china pieces had been taken or broken by his companions when they broke in, but there were still enough left in the cupboards to afford us something to eat off of and pots to cook with.
As we stood washing and drying the dishes together, it almost felt like a normal family scene. The only difference was it was a wild Indian standing beside me, drying the dishes. I doubted Wolf was the sort anyone could domesticate. I wouldn’t know how to begin. However, having him there gave me a certain comfort. I would have company over the winter, and he claimed he loved me. I wondered if he really did? Maybe he just wanted me because he was used to having control over me. It would take time to discover the truth, I realized.
When the dishes were finished, I went into the parlor and sat down at the pianoforte. Wolf followed me in. When I started playing, he became excited and watched me in wonder as I moved my fingers over the keys creating a melody. I realized he had never heard anyone play a pianoforte before. I was pleased that I could introduce him to something he had never experienced before. Now he was the one to learn new things about how the white man lived. I wondered if he would get accustomed to it and enjoy living in my home? Then I had to remind myself that once the winter was over, he would have to leave. He would want me to come with him. I wasn’t sure I wanted to go. It would be better not to learn to love Wolf, I told myself. I didn’t think I could go back to the Indian way of life again. I wanted to remain on the homestead my father built and raise my child there. It didn’t matter if it was Wolf’s child too. I would never allow him to take it from me when he went back to his people, I vowed.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I stood at Ben’s bedroom door, my hand on the knob after opening it. Wolf stood at my shoulder, looking into the room.
“This is where you will sleep,” I told him firmly. “It belonged to my brother, whom you killed. I loved my brother, and you took him from me. Now you can sleep in his bed and think about how he will never enjoy this room again.”
“I wish to sleep next to you,” Wolf said forcefully, yet looking at me with pleading in his eyes.
I shook my head.
“No!” I almost yelled. “I am not your woman or your slave! I will never become your wife! When winter is over, you will go back to your people and forget about how you ruined my life! Until then, you will help me here, to make up for the misery you have put me through! This is my home! You are only here because…”
I did not finish. I really didn’t know why he was here. I didn’t know why I was allowing him to stay. I just knew I could not face the birth of my child alone, and I didn’t want to spend the winter on my own. Once spring came, I would send Wolf on his way before Martin returned to check up on me, then I would try to put everything behind me. I knew it would be impossible to forget, though.
Wolf hung his head and gave me a sideways glance.
“You are right,” he said. “I have treated you unfairly. When I killed your family, I did not know you. You were merely my captive. Not even my captive at the time. You were just a white girl we were taking. I was promised to one of my own people. You were only someone to use to help bring more of our people into the world and build up our tribe again. It didn’t matter if you were white or if you wished to be part of our tribe. It was the custom and we were to follow custom. Then you were given to me. I was responsible for bringing you to my people. I discovered I wanted you for my own, but that would break custom. It is the woman’s right to choose her husband. I could only marry a member of my tribe, and I was already chosen. I knew, even if you joined our tribe and chose me, it would not be allowed. I didn’t think you would choose me anyway. I would lose face if I went back on my word to marry We-lung-ung-si. There was only one way to get out of it, even though my mother disapproved.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore,” I said quietly. “I do not want to be a member of your tribe. I do not want to become your wife. Only I am no longer your slave to treat as you please! I have my own customs! In my house, we speak English, so I will no longer speak to you in your own language, the same way you never spoke to me in my language. If you wish to talk to me, you will have to learn my language, the same way I was forced to learn yours. You will sleep in my brother’s room, and in the morning you will get up and go out to milk the cow, and bring firewood in. You will be there to serve me, not as a slave but as a helper because of my condition. Once the baby is born…”
I shrugged. I didn’t even know what would happen once the baby was born. I didn’t know if I would survive the birth. I knew many women died in childbirth. I doubted that Wolf knew any more about giving birth than I did. He would probably be of no help to me.
I turned abruptly and walked across the hall to my parent’s room. I was still sleeping in th
eir bed. It was the only comfort I had since I returned home.
I lay in the bed, unable to sleep. Wolf was in a room across the hall from me and the very knowledge disturbed me in so many different ways. I thought of all the times Wolf had used me as he pleased, and the times I enjoyed it. I thought how I longed for Wolf to show any kind of tenderness toward me. I had wanted him to be motivated by love for me, rather than need to bring forth a child. Now I learned it had been his definition of love that motivated his actions, only he went about it all wrong! It couldn’t be love, I told myself. It must have been lust. He just wanted to own me, whether as a slave or a wife.
I thought about how Martin had asked me to marry him. He had almost demanded that I let him care for me. What would he do if he discovered Wolf was here? The thought of Martin possibly killing Wolf made my heart leap in fear. I realized I did not want Wolf dead. In some unexplainable way, there was still a bond between us. It was a bond that seemed difficult to break. I knew Wolf did not want to break it. I wondered if I did?
I could feel the baby turning restlessly inside of me. It was probably as anxious to be born as I was to have it be born. I had noticed that the moment Wolf entered the house, the baby was suddenly active. Did it in some subtle way actually know Wolf was its father? Did it have a bond to him too? Was it fair of me to break that bond between father and child when I sent Wolf away? I was torn, no matter what choice I made.
Wolf could not remain here, and I refused to leave my childhood home. I could not let Wolf take my child, and yet if I raised it, both my child and myself would be shunned by our neighbors and society in general. Martin would refuse to have anything to do with me then, not that I wanted to marry him, but he had been a good friend. My child would have no friends or even brothers and sisters to share its life with. It wouldn’t know if it was white or Indian? I wouldn’t know either.
If I left and went with Wolf, I would become an Indian and forced to live by their customs. Life had not been any harder in the Indian village than it had been at home, but my roots were here where my family had been. I could not erase my past so easily and give up the house my father had labored over so lovingly. All my memories were wrapped within that house. Only I had no trade. How would I survive on my own if I never married and only had one child to help me on the homestead? It took a lot of work to keep a household running smoothly and a farm productive. I would have to hire someone to work the farm, with not much to pay them with.
My head was full of worries and projected challenges no matter what I chose to do. For now, I would just have to take one day at a time, I told myself. Wolf was here. For the time being, I would have to rely on him. I just had to guard my heart against getting used to having him around, I cautioned myself. Don’t fall in love with him, I scolded. Only I believed it was too late. The moment I saw his face, when he burst through the door, my heart lifted, I realized how much I had missed him. He had come for me after all! Only I could not weaken. When spring came I would have to send him away!
The days started to take shape in a different way. First of all, it continued snowing and each morning Wolf would have to shovel a path to the barn so he could milk the cow and gather the eggs. He did not complain or act as though he disliked the task. Then he would bring an armload of wood in and place it in the box next to the hearth. I already had the fire going and the oven warming by the time the morning chores were finished. I would fix breakfast for two instead of one, and we would eat in silence since Wolf did not know English and I would not speak Lenape. After breakfast, Wolf would help me clean up and dry the dishes for me. Then I would spin wool into yarn as Wolf watched on and then help me wind the yarn into balls. He held the skein over his two strong hands, allowing the line to be pulled away as I rolled the yarn and placed the balls into a basket. I felt mesmerized by the sight of those strong hands, remembering how they once gently touched me.
I gave Wolf wheat to grind into flour, which was easy compared to the way the Indians ground their meal with a stone and rock bowl. Wolf merely had to pour the grain into a grinder and turn the handle, but it took several grindings, tightening up the clasp each time to grind the wheat even smaller at each new grinding. Even though it was time-consuming, it was easy work. I wondered about wheat for the next year? Father always bought it and brought it home to be stored for the winter and future use. When it ran out, I would have no way of buying more, I realized.
Wolf’s horse shared the hay with the cow, and I hoped the supply lasted out the winter. I had not expected any new livestock needing to be fed. I wondered how long it would take for the pond to freeze so Wolf could cut blocks to put in the cellar. Having Wolf there made it easier on me physically, but emotionally, it was taking its toll.
He would often sit, staring at me with a concerned look in his eyes. He was not trying to learn English, and his stubborn pride irritated me. I would often repeat the English word for objects around the house, but he never repeated them back to me. Because of his stubbornness, we did not speak with each other. I refused to lapse into his language, and he refused to learn mine. This just made me believe he really didn’t want to learn my customs while insisting I learned his when I was in his village. I felt if he actually did love me, he would make an attempt to become part of my world. I decided he only wanted me on his own terms, which was a one-sided kind of love I was not going to accept.
While I had his company I still felt lonely because we could not share a conversation with each other. At least with Martin, we sat and talked about our past and our beliefs. Wolf said nothing. He hadn’t even conversed with me when I had been his slave, I realized, while he had happily talked with his young men friends in the village. He often spoke with his mother and sister as well. I came to the conclusion that our lack of sharing was what stood between us back then and was standing between us now.
I often found him staring at my belly and knew what he was thinking, only I never allowed him to touch me. He did not deserve to be part of this new unborn life which he forced upon me to get his own way. He thought because I carried his child that was all it would take to convince me to choose him as my husband. I suppose my telling him I did not wish to become his wife had sobered him some.
Wolf had gone to his room for the night, and I decided to take the opportunity to fill the copper tub and take a bath. I would have to let Wolf know he could use the tub for his own baths, I decided. He sometimes went out and washed himself with snow, which amazed me that he was able to do such a thing. Only because he refused to learn my language, I would not revert to his language to tell him about the tub. Let him have snow baths all winter, I thought stubbornly to myself. Neither of us was willing to give in to the other.
As I stepped into the tub, I turned and saw Wolf standing in the doorway watching me. I was angry and hissed at him to leave, but he ignored me. I sank down into the small tub, holding my belly in a protective manner, as I watched Wolf step into the room.
“I am not going to hurt you,” Wolf told me in his own language.
He knew I understood. Then he knelt beside the tub and took the soap from the dish on the table beside the tub and began running it over my belly. Slowly he progressed over my entire body, as I closed my eyes, trying to block out all the memories he was bringing to the surface at his touch. He did not speak but merely bathed me tenderly, perhaps trying to show me that he cared for me. I sat stiffly, refusing to allow any emotions to surface, while they went crazy within my heart and soul.
When he finished, he rose to his feet and looked down at me.
“Your beauty consumes me,” he said softly, and then left the room.
I sat shivering in the tub. Not from the cold but from the effect of Wolf’s touch. I had almost forgotten what it was like to have his hand smooth over my skin. I had tried to forget what it felt like, I had to admit, only now, it was taking over my senses. I had to admit to myself how much I missed being next to Wolf. Even when I had been his slave, at least I had him near me at night
, and there were times he reverted to his old gentleness when he took me. Had he been struggling with his own emotions back then, I wondered?
I moved my hand over my belly, as I saw my skin stretch where the baby was pushing with its feet. It was kicking me, and where the movement of it had made me feel content in the past, now it felt painful. I gasped, as the pain grew stronger, and then I realized the baby was trying to find a way out! I had started labor!
“Wolf!” I screamed at the top of my lungs in his own language.
A moment later he was leaping into the room towards me, his eyes wide, a frightened expression on his face.
“Are you hurt?” he asked as he looked at the pain expressed on my face.
“I am giving birth!” I cried, feeling helpless. “I don’t know what to do!”
Wolf was lifting me from the tub and wrapping me in a nearby towel.
“Take me to my bed, I instructed him, and he started up the stairs, it seemed he was taking them two at a time.
Wolf placed me on the bed, but his eyes plainly stated he was at a loss as to what to do next. Then a calm came over his features.
Across The River Page 11