Another Chance

by Janet Cooper

  In a slow, measured manner, Bowl-Woman explained, "Little Turtle said he needed me to fetch White Owl. By the time I had returned with Xhan Xhan, the woman was gone."

  His son's less than gracious acceptance of Sarah increased the possibility of her having fled the plantation. "Where is Little Turtle now?"

  Relief passed over Bowl-Woman's face. "He stands outside, near the kitchen's door, practicing with his knife."

  Hastily thanking the cook, Wolf strode to the rear yard. His son glanced in his direction then looked away as if embarrassed. "Obviously, you heard my discussion with Bowl-Woman," Wolf said.

  Little Turtle nodded, but kept his eyes averted.

  "Do you know where Sarah is?"

  Still staring at the ground, he bobbed his head.

  "Are you going to tell me?" Wolf's annoyance grew.

  "I saw her at the creek, near the cabins," his son spoke reluctantly.

  "One of the first rules of a Lenape is hospitality and courtesy. You have shown neither."

  "She is just a white woman," Little Turtle spat out.

  Wolf examined the boy. Before Sarah, Wolf would have made the same comment. He had planted his prejudices on his child. Abashed at his action, Wolf said, "She is our guest."

  Little Turtle drew a circle in the dirt with the toe of his moccasin.

  Sensing the child was not convinced, he said, "When I return, we will talk." Wolf wondered exactly what he could or would say to his son.

  * * *

  Wolf heard Sarah talking, but could not make out her words. She had her back to him as she weeded the garden. All around her bundles of herbs were tied together and ready to be hung to dry. He wondered with whom she spoke. He saw only Quick Rabbit sitting a few feet away. Had she come out of her dreamlike state? Another look shattered his hope. She remained in her own world. Why did Sarah sit near her and talk? Why was she digging in Quick Rabbit's garden?

  "What shall I do with them?" Sarah asked, as she held a bunch of herbs aloft.

  "Why not put them inside her house?" he responded.

  "Wolf."

  Sarah's smile warmed him as much as the relief at finding her had minutes before.

  "When did thee return?" she asked. Her face reddened.

  He knew why Bowl-Woman had blushed, but why did Sarah? Did his return give her as much pleasure as seeing Sarah gave him? He hoped so. "Long Knife and I rode in a short while ago."

  "Did thee find the men?" she asked, as she wiped her palms on her apron.

  "No." Going to her side, he offered his hand. Her smooth palm, now creased with tiny scratches from her weeding, slid firmly into his leather-hardened hand. As he tightened his hold and pulled her up, the fire flashed through his arm. He tried to deny the cause, but one look in her eyes chased all such thoughts aside. He drew her near, until they stood only inches apart. She raised her face and stared deeply into his eyes. Her expression showed her concern and her desire for him. Gently, he captured her chin with his fingers as he lowered his lips to hers. His open mouth surrounded hers, and he drank in her sweet breath. Her tongue moved slowly over his teeth before entering the inner sanctuary and possessing him.

  Wanting her still closer, he released her hand and encircled her waist. Her arms wrapped around him. The aroma of basil, mint, and other spices tickled his nose. His conscience warred with his desire and screamed for him to put her aside. Instead of kissing her again as he wished, he placed his hands on either side of her face and drew gently away from her. Passion and desire showed in her eyes. He tried to mask a similar reflection in his own, and hoped he succeeded.

  She gave him a lazy smile, before resting her head on his chest. He touched the top of her soft, thick chestnut hair with his chin. Her breath warmed his chest and stimulated an ache deep within him, while her hands massaged his back and inflamed his yearning for her. Ever since she had winked at him that first night at the inn, he had coveted her. He had suppressed his longing, for every white woman was taboo. Yet, the more time he spent with her, the greater his craving grew. His grandmother's face flashed across his mind. He must control his longing. Sarah must not suffer as she had.

  He glanced over her head. Quick Rabbit still sat hunched over.

  "Thee didn't locate the men?" Sarah asked, again. Her lips grazed his pap, increasing the sexual desire he had only banked by breaking their kiss. Her question and the failure of his quest returned a degree of command to him.

  "Again, too many men had trampled over the ground." Looking once more at Quick Rabbit, but keeping his arms around Sarah, he asked, "What are you doing here?"

  "Feeling bored, I decided to explore. When I found Quick Rabbit, I wanted to help."

  He watched her look with compassion at his friend. Again, the drums sounded their alarm. Sarah must not become involved. Any commitment would bind her closer to him and his way of life. She must remain an outsider. His grandmother had trod a similar path, and that way had led to her unhappiness. When she died, she had only her Lenape family to grieve for her. Their white neighbors had shunned her funeral. Although Sarah's interest in his people pleased him, Wolf would not allow her to suffer the same fate.

  Reluctantly easing his arms away, he hardened his heart and asked harshly, "If the wise women in the village cannot help, neither can you." As he spoke the words, he sensed her hurt. He wished he had not had to say them, but a small pain now was far better than a lifetime filled with sorrow.

  She stepped away and gaped at him. With wide‑open eyes, she stared at him in disbelief. "No one appears to be doing anything. I thought I might help."

  "You know nothing about our traditions, our culture, or our way of life. How can you succeed where others with such knowledge have failed?" The pain that had never left her face intensified. His heart wept, but he fought against crushing her to him and explaining why he spoke so cruelly. He renewed his vowed never to subject her to the rejection XhanXhan's wife had experienced from her own people.

  Sarah's jaw tightened, as she increased the distance between them. "Can I help? Who knows? Perhaps knowledge about thy culture, traditions, etc. would help, but neither of us knows if that is the only way to succeed. So, until it is proven to me that my efforts are a failure, I'm going to try."

  He loomed over her. "If my people have not succeeded, neither can you." His words cut him as deeply as they did her.

  "Thou art inflexible, bullheaded and obstinate! Quick Rabbit needs help. I refuse to quit. Nothing thee can say will change my mind." She whirled on her heel and marched away.

  "Sarah," he said, but softly so she would not hear. Even when she had turned the corner and departed from his sight, he could only stare after her. "I only wish to spare you the hurt that will come if you allow yourself to care."

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  "That man's as impossible as his son," Sarah muttered as she marched away. "If he believes for one minute that I intend to give up trying to help Quick Rabbit, he can just think again!"

  She strode for several minutes in the general direction of the house then slowed her steps. How shall I proceed? As she considered her answer, she saw Long Knife leaving the barn. She smiled, and he returned her greeting.

  Delighted at receiving a friendly response, after her recent set down, she hailed him. "Wolf told me," she said, as she drew nearer, "that thou lost the trail of the British patrol."

  A frown crossed his face. What did I said wrong now, she thought, mentally shaking her head at her latest, unknown faux pas.

  "The colonial soldiers completely trampled the tracks." Anger and disgust at their incompetence streamed from every word he spoke.

  Relieved she was not the cause of "his" displeasure, she said, "What a shame thou did not discover them first."

  He nodded in agreement. "How is Daniel?"

  His question surprised her for as far as she knew, the teens had talked but once. Perhaps being of a similar age, they had developed a relationship, she hoped Long Knife's query indicated a positive one. "I wish I
knew," she said, with true regret. "As thou may know, he sought revenge for the beating the British corporal gave him and eager for retribution he decided to join the army. I am very glad he was gone when the British patrol returned to the inn." Shivers of fear for the valiant teen raced through Sarah.

  "The military have placed him with the scouts because of his tracking skills. His group must not have been involved with the initial hunt or thou would have seen him." She added in an off-handed manner way, "Thou art the one the army should hire."

  Long Knife eyed her with increased interest. "I, too, seek vengeance."

  "For what they did to the farm," she stated.

  "E-e, and because the corporal and/or his men raped my mother."

  The clear image of Quick Rabbit sitting alone on the step returned in full measure to Sarah. "I am sorry. I saw her and spent a little time with her."

  He looked astonished, as if her interest in his mother was unusual, then said, "With my father living in the heavens, Quick Rabbit is my responsibility. But, I have failed her." Rage and guilt showed in his dark eyes, yet his voice held little expression.

  Sarah reached out to touch the lad to comfort him, but, remembering his mother's revulsion, stopped. "I talked to her while I weeded her garden."

  "Did she speak to you?" His voice held hope and surprise.

  Having heard the hope, she hated her next words. "No. I'm not even sure she knew I was there."

  His shoulders sagged, and his face and body language showed his disappointment.

  "I intend to return, as often as necessary, until she responds," Sarah said, reconfirming her earlier decision.

  "You will do this?" He stared at her.

  Wolf's words burned in Sarah's mind. "She needs help. I will do whatever I can to break through the wall she has built around herself."

  "It is good that you will spend time with her," Long Knife stated solemnly.

  Sarah searched for words to provide him the same comfort his comment had given to her. Even as she hunted for the right ones, she knew the best way was cracking through the barrier encasing Quick Rabbit. "I will do what I can." She hoped her words did not raise his hope above what Sarah could do.

  "Thank you. If you will excuse me, I must see my mother." He bowed his head in a brief salute.

  "Of course." She watched Long Knife leave and thought how polite he was. His behavior contrasted strongly with two other males. She sighed then turned toward the house. Talking about Quick Rabbit brought back vividly Sarah's memory of the fat soldier and the lust she saw in his eyes. She felt dirty and longed to cleanse herself physically and mentally. The second was not possible, for Sarah could not purge her mind of the horror and helplessness she had experienced. However, she could scour and wash her hair.

  She hastened to the house, hoping the housekeeper had returned and could tell her where she might bathe. As she walked in the front door, she saw the older woman coming down the hall. "Bowl-Woman, can thou tell me where I might get a bath?"

  The woman smiled. "Between cabins and smoke house is narrow path. Follow and you will reach pimoa kun."

  "The what?" Sarah asked.

  "The pimoa kun, bath house. Nu hum, grandmother, watches over huts. She will help you."

  "Thank thee." Sarah raced up the steps for a change of clothes before leaving the house.

  As she approached the houses, she replayed her last minutes with Wolf. The hurt and anger remained. She refused to dwell on what she could not change and focused on finding the track leading to the pimoa kun. When she had walked this way earlier, she had not noticed another road, yet moments later, she saw the clearly marked trail. How could I have missed this? she wondered.

  Strolling on, she saw the back of the smoke house on one side of the dirt lane and the rear of the Lenape' homes on the other. She increased her pace, eager to wash away the dirt even if she could not as easily solve her problem with Wolf. Soon the sound of falling water caught her attention. Within minutes, she reached a clearing. Two small, domed-shaped, thatched huts, about the size of pup tents, stood about five yards apart, facing a pond of water. Off to the right, a seven or eight foot waterfall fed the little pool. At the opposite end, stones damned the water, allowing only a small trickle to cascade over the top. She wondered how cold the water would be. If the temperature was too cool, she would take a sponge bath without the sponge. She smiled ruefully.

  "He!"

  An old woman suddenly stood before her. "Oh!" Her sudden appearance startled Sarah, and she stepped back nervously.

  "Hello," the small, gnarled Lenape woman said. "I keeper of pimoa kun. You English woman." She spoke the words in a low, musical tone.

  "My name is Sarah."

  She pointed to herself. "Nu Hum, grandmother.

  "Nu Hum, Bowl-Woman told me if I came here I could bathe."

  "E-e, yes. Stones hot and ready always."

  Like a sauna. Sarah glanced again at the two igloo-like structures and arbitrarily started walking toward the half-moon hut on the left. Not what I had in mind, but …

  Nu Hum touched Sarah's arm and shook her head. "Men." Pointing to the opposite one, she said, "Women."

  Sarah surveyed each hut, but saw no difference. Shrugging her shoulders, she walked to the other one and bent down, preparing to crawl inside.

  "Leave clothes outside. I clean."

  "That's not necessary, I have another outfit." She showed the old woman what was inside the bundle.

  Nu Hum nodded as if she understood, but held out her hands and waited.

  She was not sure why the woman had nodded, because one look at Nu Hum convinced Sarah that removing her clothes inside the hut was not an option. Feeling a little conspicuous, she began peeling off her layers.

  Nu Hum smiled her approval at this action then picked up a bucket, and started toward the water.

  Hastily, Sarah undressed. Giving a quick glance to the other hut before pulling off her shift, she saw no one. Evidently, Sarah was the only one taking advantage of the pimoa kun. Hastily, she threw back the deerskin flap and crawled inside. The heat struck her face. She almost stopped, but remembering her lack of clothes, she scurried in. She edged around the stones that surrounded a slow burning fire, and before she reached the opposite side, the perspiration poured from her skin. Sarah would definitely take a plunge in the pond after spending time here regardless of the temperature.

  As she sought a comfortable spot on the skin-covered floor, the flap covering the doorway flew back. Sarah crossed her arms over her breasts and tried to appear nonchalant.

  Nu Hum placed the bucket next to the hot rocks. When the wet wooden side hit the stones, they sizzled. The old woman crawled closer before untying a small bag from her waist band. "Scrub body." In the palm of her hand, she held out the leather sack.

  Sarah took one hand off her breasts and grasped the strings.

  "When finished, wipe skin with beaver tail."

  Nu Hum dropped the four by four rough 'cloth' onto Sarah's knee then backed to the doorway.

  Sarah slid her fingers inside the neck of the leather container to pull it open, but kept her attention focused on Nu Hum. Upon reaching the pail, the bath woman lifted the bucket and poured water on the hot stones. The rocks hissed and steam rose, filling the small room. Now, Sarah's body became a river of water. She wondered how long she had to stay and cook? When the mist cleared, she discovered she was alone.

  Digging into the bag, Sarah encountered a substance that reminded her of potters’ clay. Upon lifting a handful, the delightful smell of peaches wafted around her. While her skin might appreciate the mixture, Sarah wondered what the thick stuff would do for her hair. The Lenape wore theirs in a slicked back style. If they used this, it would keep every strand in place. She decided to forget shampooing.

  After applying Nu Hum's cream, Sarah scrubbed the excess off with the beaver cloth. When she had finished, she rubbed her hand over her skin. The smoothness surprised and pleased her. If she could discover the re
cipe, she would make a fortune in her own century. The heat in the hut and the perspiration that flowed freely from Sarah's pores forced her to consider a more immediate requirement. She retraced her steps, pushed back the door, glanced outside, and, seeing no one, raced to the water. The cold shocked and stopped. After hesitating a moment, she plunged in to the river. The sides of the pond dropped off sharply, and she began swimming. After a few strokes, she, carefully, dove beneath the semi-clear water. The shallow dive ended almost before she had straightened her body for her fingertips touched the muddy bottom. Yuck, she thought, pulling her legs close to her body so her toes would be spared the ooze even if her hands had not. Oh, for a sandy or rocky bottom.

  The sound of splashing water reminded Sarah of the small waterfall. She glanced in that direction and started off. As she started her third stroke, someone grabbed her foot, pulling her back. She looked around and swallowed a mouthful of water. Her long wet hair partially blocked her view, but her heart recognized the touch. "Wolf," she cried.

  He reined her in. Although his fingers only briefly grazed her legs, each soft caress added oil to the fire her anger had banked. She tried to deny her desire by escaping his hold, but his strong, sure hands drew her to him. He encircled her waist, and he twirled her to face him. Her nakedness embarrassed her, but she could think of no way to hide herself from his view for he held her arms firmly in his grasp.

  His glance roamed slowly over her face, down her neck and shoulders. The clear water lapped against her breasts and did little to shield her from his wondering gaze.

  After a long minute, he focused his attention on her face. She stared at his eyes. His desire showed, increasing her need for him.

  "I spoke harshly to you," he said, rubbing his thumbs against her upper arms.

  His words pleased her, and his touch stoked her internal furnace. Still, his earlier comments had hurt. She fought back her physical yearning and waited for him to continue.

  "You wanted to help," he added, his tone soft.

  Would he ask for forgiveness for his sharp words?

  "Quick Rabbit has not responded to any treatment." His fingers massaged Sarah's shoulders. "I understand your desire to help. I will not prevent your visits."