Another Chance

by Janet Cooper

  Although Sarah wandered through all five rooms of the tavern and called down to the cellar, she failed to find Benjamin. Opening the front door, a soft, cool breeze touched her face. High gray clouds partially covered the sun, limiting the warm rays of the early November morning.

  "We are over here," her father called.

  She acknowledged his greeting.

  Daniel, wearing a pair of breeches he had obviously outgrown months before, smiled at her. Sarah sent an answering one back, deciding he shouldn’t suffer because of her misery.

  Since she had met the lad, Sarah had learned that Benjamin had bought Daniel's indentured papers. Shortly afterwards, the dear Quaker had freed Daniel from all debt. Still the youth continued to work to pay off what he perceived as his indebtedness. Perhaps, this was why he never wore anything except well-patched clothes. She wondered if he owned a decent outfit. Today Benjamin's clothes, also, looked more like rags than a shirt and pants. Sarah laughed silently for she completed this motley trio with her own shabby clothes.

  The two of them stood between a wagon filled to overflowing with apples and two large, copper kettles. One of these hung over an unlit fire, while the other stood near the table and wooden bench. Near the latter a variety of black pots and clay jars, large enough to hold several gallons, had been positioned.

  Oh, dear, Sarah sighed. Apple season. How could I have forgotten? She glanced again at the huge pile. While she enjoyed making applesauce and pies from fresh apples, the size of this job sent sympathy pains through her back, shoulders and hands.

  "Robert Brinton," said Benjamin, "is paying his debt."

  Sarah had no idea who the man was, but she was sure she would never forget his name or his barter.

  "While the weather is fine," Benjamin continued, "I thought thou might prepare them for the winter."

  "Has thou specific requests?" she asked, coming nearer, still stunned by the sheer size of the job.

  He stared at her strangely then said, "Applesauce, apple-butter, dried apples…"

  She focused on the huge, heavy kettle. "Who will help me?"

  "Daniel will keep the fire going and will carry the jars to the cellar."

  "And you?" she gasped, thinking of the hours required to complete this task.

  Benjamin did not answer, but frowned.

  Quickly, she realized her mistake. "And thou?" Sarah enunciated.

  "The cellar must be cleaned before we can store our provisions."

  "Who will help thee?" she asked, remembering the stone walls that must be whitewashed, the shelves cleaned, the spoiled or tainted food discarded, and the dirt floor swept then carefully sprinkled with water.

  "Daniel?"

  The lad in question stood about five feet five, close to her own height, and he weighed little more than she. Sarah had watched Daniel lift barrels of ale with little effort so she did not doubt his strength. Still, she did not envy him his double dose of chores. Perspiration already dripped down Daniel's forehead and soaked his hair, causing the rust color curls to tighten and allowing strands to escape his queue. His reddened face partially concealed his mask of freckles. To work up such a sweat on this cool day, Daniel must have been up before sunrise.

  Sarah grabbed the first apple, wishing for an apple parer, and began. When she finished each one, she tossed the peels into the copper kettle, dropped the apple quarters into a bucket, and threw the cores in a pail for the pigs. The pot was half full when she started the fire and began making the applesauce. While they cooked, she threaded segments on a string. These "snitzes" would hang and dry in the attic. For the next few days, the apple quarters must be twisted on the string so they would dry but not rot.

  "I brought the strainer for you," Daniel said, placing the large earthenware slotted bowl on the neck of a clay pot. "Benjamin doesn’t need me right now. He told me he would come and get me when I was needed. What else can I do for you?"

  She pushed her needle through a hard piece of apple, grateful for her thimble. "Will thou pare while I stir the pot and add the spices?"

  "Sure. "

  "Keep an eye on the fire, too. Please?"

  He nodded.

  She wanted to learn more about him and decided to ask him a few question. She sought to frame them so they would not arouse his curiosity. "Daniel, how long exactly has thou lived with us?"

  "Four years next month," he replied.

  Since she should have known the answers, she covered her question using a trite expression, "Time goes so fast that I have forgotten." The explanation sounded weak, but she couldn't come up with anything better.

  "What is the first childhood memory thou has?" she asked, deciding that she would forge ahead and hope he did not wonder too much about her questions and that she hadn’t asked this before and at least recently.

  For a moment, he rested his hands on the top of the table and her worries increased. Finally, he said, "The ship."

  "Who was with thee?"

  "My mother and father and my two little sisters." A sad expression crossed his face. "As you know, they all died before reaching Pennsylvania." He picked up another apple and started cutting.

  Although she did not know, she nodded, for obviously the real Sarah did. "How old was thou?"

  "Almost eight," he said softly.

  "Then what?"

  Anger replaced the sorrowful look. "I was indentured, although my father had paid for our passage. I had no proof. The captain showed the authorities in Philadelphia a piece of paper with my father's mark on it." Daniel threw the core, which pounced off the inside of the pot before falling on the others. His rage showed in every facet of his body. "The note was a forgery."

  "How doeth thou know?"

  "My father could read and write. He would never make an X."

  His face showed no sign of surprise, so Sarah pushed on. "Who purchased thy indenture?"

  With this question, Daniel eyed her curiously. “Why are you curious? You’ve never asked before?”

  “Oh, talking makes working easier.”

  He nodded in agreement.

  “So, who purchased thy indenture?”

  "A British merchant." The bitterness of his tone rang clearly when he spoke those three words.

  Sarah considered asking more about this man, but the hurt in Daniel's voice sounded so deep she changed her mind. "What doeth thou know about thy parents and grandparents?"

  "According to my mother, my father's father was an earl. Her father worked as their steward. My parents fell in love. He was the youngest son; she was the only child. Neither family approved, so my mother and father ran away."

  "How exciting and romantic," Sarah said. To herself she added, and how sad.

  "They survived on a small inheritance."

  "From whom?" Sarah asked.

  Daniel shrugged.

  "Has thou ever tried to get in touch with thy grandparents?" she asked.

  "I don't know their surname."

  She frowned. "Isn't it Woodley?"

  He shook his head. "My father took that name. Perhaps, if I could have found the box with our papers…" He placed a few more logs on the fire.

  "Has thou asked my father to help?"

  Again, he stared at her oddly. "A few letters have been written. Master Stone made some inquiries, but nothing came of them." He stood up and dusted off his hands.

  "Don't stop looking," she said.

  "When I have paid off my debt, I will find out," he said with conviction and grabbed a jar shaking the sliced apples into an even pile

  "I am sure thou will."

  They continued talking, but mostly about the neighbors.

  Finally, Sarah drew the wooden stirrer out of the bubbling mixture. "I think this batch is ready."

  Grabbing a long handled fork from the table, Sarah moved back to the pot, looked in then stabbed a cooked apple segment with her knife. The fruit fell apart. "If thou will ladle the apples into the sieve and push the sauce through, I will start paring again and get the
next kettle ready.”

  Having established a pattern, they continued for the rest of the morning. After a quick dinner, they returned to the chore. Around the middle of the afternoon, Sarah heard horses approaching. She stopped, pushed back her hair, and stretched her back. "Damn!"

  "Excuse me?" Daniel asked, then turned and stared at her.

  "May Long Knife and I have fresh water?" Silver Wolf asked, stopping his horse directly in front of her.

  She realized she should be angry with him for failing to say good-bye or even acknowledging her departure. Instead she thought, Why does he have to see me looking like a frump!

  He looked at her, waiting.

  "Ohhh! Help yourself…thyself," she said, after finding her voice. "Daniel, inform… No, I will tell Benjamin we have guests." She dashed for the inn, hoping to steal a few minutes to freshen up. As she entered the tavern, she called, "Father, Silver Wolf and another Lenape are here."

  "I will be upstairs in a moment. Did thou ask if they were hungry?" he called up from the cellar.

  Always the innkeeper, she thought. "Not yet," she replied as she ran up the spiral staircase, forgetting her fatigue. She would not allow her anger at Silver Wolf for his cool parting to spoil an unexpected visit. Quickly, she scrubbed her face, tidied her hair, and put on a clean cap and a freshly pressed apron. When she stepped into the yard, conversation stopped and all four pair of male eyes looked at her. She flushed at their attention.

  Silver Wolf surveyed her before he resumed speaking to Benjamin. All during this time, his eyes stayed fixed on her.

  "We checked a few sources in Philadelphia," she heard Silver Wolf say, "but no one is taking responsibility for the damage done to our plantation."

  "Has Father asked if thou will be joining us for supper?" Sarah questioned, drawing near.

  "He asked us, but we must return to Long Meadow."

  "Oh," she said, unable to keep the dejection from her voice. Unwilling to allow him to leave quite so soon, Sarah asked, "Would thou care to have a bit before thou departs?" She glanced from Silver Wolf to his young companion, whose name she could not remember. The boy stood a head taller than Daniel, but shared a similar build. Sarah guessed his age to be approximately the same. She would be surprised if his appetite didn't match Daniel's, and she counted on this.

  "Thank you, but no," Silver Wolf answered.

  Seeing the lad's expression change from anticipation to reluctant acceptance, Sarah pushed, "What about thy friend?"

  A flash of hope rekindled in the brave's face.

  Silver Wolf glanced at the youth. "Since you are in the middle of a large job," he gestured to the mountain of apples remaining in the wagon, "anything you have prepared will be fine with Long Knife." Silver Wolf's lips curved up, slightly.

  Reversing his decision surprised her, and his easy smile sent waves of pleasure through her. Had he seen the eager look of the boy and changed his mind? She had no answer, but suspected as much. "Come in, and I will see what we have."

  As they walked toward the inn, Silver Wolf matched his steps to hers. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. He nodded, and a twinkle appeared in his eyes. Obviously, he had understood what she had done, but took no offense. She grinned.

  Once inside, Benjamin said, "If thou will excuse me, I ate earlier and wish to finish my chore before the sun sets."

  Silver Wolf nodded.

  As her father started down the stairs, he called back, "We are pleased thou stopped."

  "Thank you." Silver Wolf's voice sounded surprised.

  Surely, he knew the Stones were his friends, Sarah thought. Perhaps not, she reconsidered, remembering the rampant hatred of Native Americans. She filled a plate with stew, placed a piece of cornbread on top, and handed it to Long Knife. "Daniel, may I dish up a bowl for thee?"

  "Yes, please."

  "None for me," said Silver Wolf, as he leaned against the bar. "But, I will have a glass of cider."

  After she finished serving, the only sound in the room came from the two boys as they devoured their food.

  Wanting to be alone with Silver Wolf, Sarah asked, "Would thou care to taste my freshly made applesauce?"

  "Not me," said Daniel.

  Sarah laughed, "I understand. Wolf? Long Knife?" She held her breath.

  Putting his tankard on the bar, Wolf said, "Long Knife, when you finish, join me outside. Mistress Stone will give you a dish there."

  Grabbing two wooden bowls, she hastened out the door. They walked toward the simmering caldrons. "I wanted to thank thee in person for the hospitality thou showed my father and me when we stayed at Long Meadow." Having purposely avoided mentioning the hurt she had experienced at their cool parting, she could not keep from glancing at him, trying to gage his reaction.

  "It is I, who should have expressed my appreciation for all you did."

  "Well, thou has now." Her spirit lifted. "Shall we taste the applesauce?" After filling a spoon with the freshly squeezed and seasoned apples, she twirled around. Silver Wolf stood inches from her. "Oh!" Her hand shook. He wrapped his fingers around hers, securing her grip. Their eyes met. Then he lifted their hands and lowered his mouth to the spoon. Very slowly, he sucked the sauce off the tip. He twisted the spoon toward her and nudged her lips open. She managed to swallow.

  "Sarah, we're finished. Long Knife wants his applesauce," Daniel called.

  Stepping back, she glanced at the two boys as they bounded down the steps toward them.

  "A little more cinnamon," Wolf said.

  "What?" She glanced at him.

  "A touch more cinnamon, for my taste," he repeated.

  "Oh…" She licked her lips.

  His eyes shone.

  "Mayhap, you or thou is right. " She flushed.

  Sarah hardly remembered the words spoken during their farewells, for they were common place. When they reached the road, Silver Wolf looked back. She smiled, touched her hand to her lips then waved. He saluted her. Her heart soared after him.

  * * * *

  After having thanked Bowl Woman for his breakfast, Wolf strolled down the hallway. Strange, since his grandmother had died, it had never seemed like home. His wife had preferred the cottage now used by their overseer, Brave Bear. After her death, Wolf had moved back so that Bowl Woman could care for his motherless son. Wolf shook his head, forcing aside the unwanted memories. Immediately, Sarah's face filled the space. Although he sought to chase this vision away, he failed. She dominated his dreams and many of his waking hours. When night fell and the stars appeared, he recalled her comment that she could accept his people's belief about the heavenly bodies.

  He had foolishly believed that seeing Sarah again would cure him of the desire growing inside. Instead, his interest multiplied tenfold. The picture of them sharing the same spoon pervaded his brain. He recalled her licking the same spot his mouth had touched and saw again her eyes filled with teasing and perhaps desire. The idea of physically possessing her hardened his manhood. No longer did he deny his attraction for her. The idea however revolted him; he could never allow himself to care for she was white. Wolf had loved his English grandmother, but he refused to dilute his Lenape blood further. He wanted his son to have the strength and honestly of his people, not the flawed and deceitful manner of most whites.

  Although Sarah appeared to accept the Lenape’s beliefs, he knew from experience that this was only temporary. Pressure from her world must overwhelm the openness and turn her interest to aversion.

  When he opened the front door, he stared at the very man who represented the dichotomy of whites. While proclaiming his friendship, Jeremiah Low had ignored Silver Wolf's wishes and taken Clear Water canoeing. That was the last time that Wolf had seen his wife alive. Wolf could still picture Jeremiah carrying Clear Water's lifeless body from the river. From that moment, Wolf's relationship with Jeremiah had changed. Although Low had apologized and pleaded for forgiveness and Wolf had tried, a portion of Wolf's heart had hardened against his once best fr
iend.

  “Luke!" His former friend vaulted off his horse. "I have news about the troops responsible for the raid." He whipped the reins around the post.

  Wolf hoped this lead might prove of more valuable than the others he had followed, but he wished it had come from anyone except Jeremiah. Still, Wolf would never allow his personal feelings to interfere with finding his father's murderers. "Come inside."

  Even as Jeremiah strode forward, he glanced around. "I cannot believe the progress you have made. No one could tell if they had not seen the damage. The barn is amazing. Are you increasing the size?"

  A sense of pride, mingled with sadness, touched Silver Wolf. "By a third."

  "You have selected the Chester county design." Low climbed the three steps leading to the main door.

  Wolf gestured for Jeremiah to proceed him. "The idea of a partially protected enclosure for the animals on the ground level will help during the cold weatherl."

  "Let me know how you like it. I might consider putting on an addition to my barn."

  How easily we slip into our old relationship, Wolf thought. I must not allow myself to forget what was done.

  As they entered the house, White Owl greeted them. Jeremiah and his grandfather grasped one another's shoulders.

  "I am sorry to hear of the death of Running Deer." His face showed his sorrow. "Forgive me. I'd forgotten that I must not mention his name now that he has passed on."

  "You are forgiven," White Owl said graciously.

  I would not forgive him. He and I spent too many years together. He knows our culture, Wolf thought with annoyance.

  "Our societies are different," White Owl continued, "yet you have tried to learn and accept our ways. Come join us for a drink." He led them to the kitchen.

  Bowl Woman poured blueberry flavored water into three mugs and placed them on the table near the apples.