Another Chance

by Janet Cooper

  Wolf settled next to her. His gaze locked on her as she slowly sipped the hot, healing brew. Instead of making her uncomfortable, his stare made her feel cared for, comfortable, relaxed.

  "What happened?" he asked gently.

  Focusing her attention on the half-empty cup, she began. When she mentioned the corporal storming into the tavern, Wolf tensed. Unwilling to allow her terror to build again, Sarah attempted to joke, "When he eyed me like a thick, juicy steak, I clanged him with a pewter mug."

  "What?" Wolf exclaimed. Admiration showed in his tone.

  "I hit him on his head and raced out the door," she said proudly.

  "What happened to 'turn the other cheek'?" he inquired.

  Deliberately misunderstanding him, she said, "I did not wish to see his 'other cheek'."

  A small smile sparkled in his eyes. "And…"

  She continued, finally saying, "If only the pitchfork had metal prongs."

  "That from a Quaker?" he asked, his astonishment showed.

  Since she could not tell him she was not a Friend, she said, "Anger made me forget."

  He eyed her curiously.

  "I cannot thank thee enough. If thou had not come …" All the horror and panic suppressed returned with full force. A tear trailed down her cheek.

  Wolf reached out as if preparing to wipe the moisture. She forestalled him by dashing the tear away with the heel of her palm. "I will not cry."

  "Revenge will help heal what the soldiers did," he said in a cold, brittle manner.

  His statement and his voice drove home their differences. Although Sarah prayed the soldiers would be stopped and punished, vengeance meant "an eye for an eye" to Wolf. No trial, no jury, just one life exchanged for another. She could never agree with him, neither as a modern woman nor an 18th Century woman who was brought up as a Friend. For her father's sake, she should repudiate what he had said, yet, inwardly she acknowledged she wished to be avenged. Reluctantly, she replied, "Revenge is contrary to my father's beliefs."

  "And your beliefs?" he challenged her, perhaps hearing her lack of conviction.

  She blushed. "My father raised me to follow the principles of the Society of Friends. I oppose violence."

  "How do you explain poking the soldier with a pitchfork?" he asked.

  Clearing her throat, she said, "That was different."

  "Oh?"

  "Yes," she said, defensively.

  "How?"

  Getting up, she walked toward the front window. Her conscience nagged her. Had she imagined the desire she saw in the corporal's eyes? Was she condemning an innocent man? Had he only wanted a kiss? She shuttered at giving even this to the redcoat. Then, she recalled his gesture and his actions toward her. No, she had not mistaken him. He would have raped her. "I will allow no man to take what I do not give freely," she said, strongly.

  She placed the cup on the wide sill and looked at the large oak that shaded the near side of the barn. Suddenly, she recalled young Joshua's words. A man had been hanged from that tree. What year had that happened? What was his name? Might it have been the raunchy corporal?

  Wolf spun Sarah around. "What have you not told me? What did he do?" His eyes bore into her. They seemed to will her to confide in him.

  "Nothing." She flinched and turned her head to the side.

  Wolf grasped her chin, forcing her to look at him. "What did he want?"

  She raised her eyes. Staring directly into his, she said softly, "Me…"

  His gut wrenched. She looked so vulnerable, so alone. Slowly, he lowered his head and touched her lips with his. She opened her mouth and welcomed him. His tongue circled the inside of her lips, and she moved closer. He courted her with his lips then drank of her nectar. She filled him with a desire to probe deeper, to increase their physical connection. With great difficulty, he broke the contact.

  He looked at her. Passion permeated her eyes. "You must be careful. You robbed him of his goal. The corporal will not be content until he takes what you prevented him from having."

  Wolf felt the shivers race up her arms. He remembered Quick Rabbit and spoke on, for Sarah must recognize her danger. "Such men always return." And I might not be here to protect you. His last thought renewed the agony in his soul for he wanted Sarah, yet he could never have her. Slowly, he released her.

  To his ears, her rushed words held little conviction. He guessed she had spoken them to calm his rage.

  "I never saw his face," Wolf said. He did not add that after having shot the arrows, his attention had centered solely on Sarah, just as it did now. "Tell me what he looked like."

  As she described the soldier, Wolf ground his teeth. His whole system tensed then filled with revulsion at what might have happened and at his own failure. Wolf's occupation with Sarah and his concern for her feelings had caused him to forget a cardinal rule of a warrior, never shift focus from your opponent until he is vanquished. Murderous thoughts crowded out all Wolf's logic and control. Images of suitable punishment, ranging from mere scalping to flaying the flesh off the British soldier's entire body flowed through his head. His fury must have shown, for Sarah flinched.

  "I will kill him," he said in a flat, monotone voice that masked but in no way dampened the fire burning within him.

  "He fled," she said in a rush. "He will not come back."

  "I should have killed him," he repeated.

  "For me?" She stared at him in disbelief.

  "For you and for another for your description matches that of the man who raided our plantation." Wolf looked at Sarah, as he recalled Quick Rabbit, a once vital woman now an empty shell. The idea of that happening to Sarah filled him with dark dread. He wanted to crush her to his chest and assure her that he would keep her safe, but he knew such protection would be only temporary. Only by ridding the county of Cornwallis' patrol could Wolf guarantee that. "Either that soldier or one of his patrol raped a woman who lives in our village."

  "My lord!" Sarah cried. "No wonder thou art enraged."

  She placed her hand on Wolf's buckskin shirt. Her touch warmed him and increased the intensity of his desire and concern for her.

  "How is she?" Sarah asked.

  "She sits beside her house refusing to see or talk to anyone." The image haunted him. Gradually, the facial features he saw changed. He pictured Sarah in the same position, staring, but not seeing. The vision nearly drove him crazy. Wolf grabbed Sarah to him.

  Slipping her arms around his waist, she returned his squeeze with vigor. "I was so fortunate. Thank thee for being here." She raised her head and stared deeply into his eyes.

  He brought his lips down upon hers, yearning to chase the terrible memories from her mind. Fiercely, he covered her mouth with his. She opened hers to him. Eagerly, he accepted her offer. His tongue traced the softness inside her lips, then the tips of her teeth. She reached out to welcome him, intertwining her tongue with his. Sliding his hands down her spine, he heard her cry out softly, but her mouth never left his. He massaged her back and teased her with kisses that Sarah accepted and returned pleased him.

  Her hand slid up his chest and encircled his neck. Gently, she fingered his bare scalp and drew him even closer. She shifted her weight. As she pressed her breasts to his chest, his desire flared. Her forwardness gladdened his heart, for he had never expected such passion in a white woman. They stood molded together.

  When he released her lips, he whispered, "I want you." He moved his lower body to reinforce his request.

  She grinned and duplicated his action.

  Wolf chuckled at her boldness. Once again she reminded him of a Lenape woman, not a proper Quaker lady.

  Grasping the sides of his face, she stared into his eyes and slowly licked her lips. Her sensual action and the yearning he saw in her eyes heated his blood to the boiling point.

  Outside the door, a wooden step creaked. Benjamin! Wolf knew Quaker women of her class saved their virginity for their wedding night. He sat her away from him, feeling an overwhelming need to p
rotect her reputation. No white man would think Sarah respectable if there were rumors she had been with an Indian. Wolf remembered tales of his grandmother being shunned by the whites after her marriage. His grandfather had often stated that Emily's rejection by her own people might have shortened her life. To have an affair with Sarah, a Quaker, would make her an outcast. Wolf could never expose Sarah to such harsh and inhuman treatment.

  Besides, no Lenape warrior took a virgin unless he planned to be responsible for her. Knowing he could never pledge himself to any white woman, he fought his craving for Sarah. He must reject this longing and follow his traditions, for they were the fabric and strength of his life.

  The pounding of heavy leather shoes on wood carried into the kitchen. Wolf stood at arm's length. "Another cup of tea?" he asked.

  She looked at him, confusion and disappointment evident in her eyes. Then she heard the front door open and increased the distance between them. "No, no thank thee," she managed to say.

  Straightening her cap, she sought to order her thoughts. If her father had not returned, how far would they have gone? Would it have mattered? Sarah regretted the interruption. Glancing at Wolf, she wondered if he did also. His eyes revealed nothing. As she struggled with her composure, she asked in a voice totally unlike her own, "May I pour one for thee? Would thee, thou prefer something else?" Sarah quickly corrected herself. She did not want Benjamin to hear her use the informal 'thee' with Wolf.

  "Water, thank you." Wolf sat on the nearest Windsor chair.

  As Benjamin entered the kitchen, Sarah asked, "Was there much damage?"

  "A few rails of the fence are broken, but Mr. Keenan's arrival saved our grain and the livestock. We are in your debt." Benjamin bobbed his head.

  "No." Wolf stood. "What I did only partially pays for the food you delivered to Long Meadow."

  Benjamin shook his head and started to speak.

  "Father," Sarah broke in, sensing the two men might continue this unresolvable discussion, "would thee like a mug of cider or a cup of tea?"

  "Hot cider." He stopped before adding, "And a thick slice of bread with butter, please."

  "Oh!" Sarah shouted. Suddenly, her father's request reminded her of a forgotten task. She rushed to her beehive oven, pulled off the door and stared.

  "What is it?" Benjamin asked.

  Wolf moved closer to her.

  She dragged out a dried-up pumpkin pie. "Damn that soldier!"

  The two men glanced at each another in confusion then at Sarah.

  "He spoiled most of my morning's work." Sarah slammed the pie on the table. The blackened edge of the crust broke off and fell on the oak top. She looked at Benjamin and Wolf, who appeared not to understand her anger. "Thou did not spend all morning baking." She drew the other five pies from the oven, protecting her hands with only the thin material of her apron. Two of the apple pies, while browner than she liked, could be salvaged. All three pumpkins had dried out and shrunk, leaving a wide margin between the crust and the filling.

  "They smell good," Benjamin offered, perhaps hoping to lessen the disaster staring at her from the table.

  She glared at him. His words failed to appease.

  Wolf glanced from the pies to Sarah. "They are not too bad."

  "No?" Her skepticism showed as she raised her eyebrow.

  "Mr. Keenan is right," Benjamin answered. A bewildered look washed over his face. "Thee sounds almost as upset about the burnt pies as thee is about the fighting in our yard."

  "I am." An instant later, she remembered Daniel still lying unconscious upstairs and felt very guilty for creating a scene about overdone pies. "Of course not, but …" she allowed the words to trail off, realizing how illogical her statement sounded. From their expressions, she swiftly perceived that they failed to fathom her emotions. Unable to explain further, she added, "Another woman would understand what I said." Sighing, she went on, "At least the pigs will eat well. "

  The men smiled.

  "I will try a slice of pie," said Wolf.

  "Me, too," her father echoed.

  "Pumpkin?" she offered, her lips curving in a curious smile.

  "Apple," they said in unison.

  She laughed, but the sound held little merriment.

  Having served the men, Sarah began scraping the burnt pieces into a bucket. As she watched Wolf, she realized by returning his kiss and flirting with him, she had complicated her life further. Although the intimacy was limited, the emotion had created a strong hold on her being; one that would be difficult to sever. When she departed the 18th Century, a part of her would remain with Wolf. He attracted her as no other man ever had. She probably should not have returned his kiss, but she had enjoyed his touch. To deny that was impossible.

  "After what happened today, you cannot stay here," Wolf informed them, cutting into his piece of pie.

  Her whole body clenched in fear. She would never leave the inn. This building was the gateway to her own time.

  "I must." Benjamin used his fork to trim off the darkened crust. "This is my home."

  Hearing his words, the knots in her chest loosened, and Sarah could breathe again.

  "I'm not suggesting you abandon the inn forever. You must find a safer place until the raiding stops and peace returns to the area." Wolf took a long swallow of water.

  "I will not run away," her father said.

  For the next few minutes, only the clatter of forks scrapping against pewter plates sounded in the room.

  "Hire a few men to protect you," Wolf said.

  "That is not our way." Benjamin glanced at Sarah. "Mayhap, daughter, thee should visit Philadelphia. Since the British occupy the city, thou will be safe with thy aunt."

  The only people who meant anything to Sarah in this century were in this inn "No," she stated emphatically, "I will not leave either."

  "Be reasonable," Wolf said.

  His obvious concern for her safety pleased her, but if his plans included her leaving the inn, she would never accept them.

  Wolf looked at Benjamin. "Forgive me for my plain speaking." Without waiting for a reply, he turned back to Sarah. His ebony eyes bore into hers. His rage showed. "Following Quaker rules is fine during times of peace, but not when marauders roam unchallenged." Wolf shoved his almost empty plate toward the center of the table, making the fork rattle against the metal plate.

  Sarah feared he might mention her possible rape and sighed inwardly with relief when he did not. If Benjamin suspected what had nearly happened, Sarah would be packed off to Philadelphia. She wondered how Quakers handled violated women. Staying here was her only choice, yet she wished to save her 18th Century father from worrying.

  "Daughter, although I disagree with what Mr. Keenan has said about the Society, as thy father thee is my concern. Thou will be secure with thy aunt."

  The idea of closing her doorway to the future sent goose bumps racing down her spine. Sarah would never agree. "No, I will remain here." At my portal. she added silently. A small voice whispered in her head, where a certain good‑looking Lenape occasionally stops by to visit.

  Pushing back his chair, Wolf stood. "The trail grows cold while we sit and argue uselessly."

  Benjamin rose. He appeared older, tired, and exhausted. "Though I am no longer accepted at Meeting, my principles have not and never will change, I cannot approve of thy desire for vengeance. As a father, I understand.

  His words surprised and comforted Sarah. How difficult for a Quaker or for one following their principles during times of war, she thought.

  "Thank you," Wolf replied.

  Walking Wolf to the door, her father said, "Again, I thank thee and will pray for thee." They grasped arms.

  Wolf nodded his head in acceptance.

  Sarah picked up the bucket that held the scraps of her pies. She wanted an excuse to be alone with Wolf, for she had no idea when or if they might meet again. She could not let him leave without giving him one more kiss. "I will walk thee to thy horse before I feed the pigs."


  "And I will check on Daniel," Benjamin said, turning and heading toward the stairs.

  Sarah and Wolf strolled down the steps and around to the back of the tavern. "I thank thee for not mentioning my fear to my father."

  "You mean the plans the corporal had for you?"

  She blushed. "Perhaps he only meant to kiss me," Sarah said, not believing her own words.

  He raised one eyebrow revealing his disbelief. "I do not understand you. A Lenape woman would obey her father."

  She kicked at a pile of leaves, scattering them in all directions. "I must stay here."

  "Why?"

  "Daniel and my father need me."

  "Do you really believe that?" He examined her closely.

  His forthright inspection sent shivers speeding along her arms. Lowering her eyes for fear he would see that was not her sole reason, she gazed at the slop bucket. "Yes."

  He lifted her chin and surveyed her, disregarding her attempts to hide. Blood rushed to her face. The heat from his fingertips burned her skin. "There is more that you are not telling."

  Wolf dropped his hand, but she kept her attention focused on him. For an instant, she considered revealing the truth, but suppressed her thought as foolish.

  As he prepared to mount his horse, she sat down the wooden pail and reached for him. She would not allow him to leave without giving her one last embrace. "May I have a kiss before thee departs?"

  Without waiting for him to respond, she took a step nearer. Pressing her body against his, she placed her arms around his neck and stood on tiptoe.

  Slowly, he lowered his head and claimed her mouth. Warmth flowed through her as his kiss drew the breath from her. His fingers grazed the side of her breast. She had no way of knowing if his touch had been intentional or not, but she could not keep the pleasurable moan from escaping her throat. Everything about this man's physical body drew her to him. She molded herself to him, wanting to burn the memory of his touch into her very existence.

  Finally freeing her mouth, Wolf caressed the side of her forehead with his lips. "You are unlike any white woman I have ever known."

  His words galvanized her. Had her forwardness given away her disguise? Had her facade slipped? Would she betray herself to Benjamin? Daniel? "I’ve told thee that," she said, trying to make light of his comment. Lightly, she brushed his ear lobe with her index finger. For temptation continue to stir within her at his nearness. "And thee is unlike any man." Her fingertips slid down his jaw to his firm chin. She must stop this. She dropped her arm and forced herself to regain control of her emotions. "Thank thee for stitching Daniel's head."