Another Chance

by Janet Cooper

  Gently, Sarah placed her hand on top of Quick Rabbit's head and waited. The woman remained still. So far, so good. Just as slowly and softly, Sarah laid the brush on the near side of the part in Quick Rabbit's hair. The woman's passive behavior continued. With infinite patience, .Sarah began her first stroke. When she reached the tangled part, she slid her hand under the clump of hair and eased the brush through the matted section, trying not to pull. Quick Rabbit appeared not to notice the slight tugs. Since she did not object, Sarah continued.

  While working, she babbled about various, unimportant matters, but never mentioned the foray. She did not want to think about the danger for Wolf, and Quick Rabbit needed no reminders about the British patrol. When Sarah finished, she took the cord from her cap and tied Quick Rabbit's hair back. Sarah leaned back and looked at her handiwork. For the first time since Sarah had arrived, the Lenape woman looked presentable.

  "Thou has a wonderful son," Sarah said. "I'm sure he would be pleased at how pretty thou looks."

  Quick Rabbit raised her chin and stared at Sarah.

  "Thou moved!" What shall I say now? Sarah could not tell the woman her son had left to join the army. "Long Knife has gone, hunting." A small twinge of guilt pricked her at the white lie, then she realized he had gone hunting but not for game. Sarah smiled and pushed any feeling aside of deception aside.

  "He should be back soon." She hoped and prayed she spoke the truth. If Wolf caught those responsible, Long Knife would have no reason to stay with the Continentals.

  "Your son and the lad who worked for my father are acquainted." Sarah recited in as much detail and embellishment as she could about the boys' first meeting. She spun out her story about the apples, the meal and the lads' appetites, but Quick Rabbit made no further moves. When Sarah finished her tale, she could think of nothing else to say. Uncertain if she had helped, Sarah said, "I will return tomorrow."

  As she rose to her feet, Quick Rabbit's eyes briefly followed her, before dropping away. The slight movement added encouragement to Sarah. "Perhaps, we can take a walk," she said, as she dusted off her apron.

  Quick Rabbit gave no response. Since Sarah had not expected any, her enthusiasm remained high. "I will come early." She waved.

  As she walked toward the house, the pleasure she had experienced when Quick Rabbit had reacted faded replaced by her fear for Wolf. She had given him all the information she had, hadn't she? Why did something nag at her? The swamp. She started reviewing their conversation and abruptly stopped. Had she told him about the marshlands and heavy underbrush surrounding the creek at this spot? Sarah pictured herself talking. Just as she had started to, he had interrupted her to ask her how she knew so much about the river. Had she returned to the subject? She could not remember, but she did not think she had. The water, the surveyors showed on the map, would have covered this problem. If Wolf and Jeremiah did not possess this information, they might find themselves bogged down in their carefully laid net. Sarah must find them and warn them, but how? They had an hour or two heads start. She could never walk fast enough to catch them. Thee could ride. Her stomach turned over as her fear of horses returned.

  A twig broke. Sarah whipped around. "Little Turtle." She took a deep breath and tried to calm her fright and the inward churning caused by thinking about riding. "Did thy father find thee?" Perhaps, Wolf had been delayed starting.

  The boy nodded.

  "Is he still here?" she asked with hope.

  Little Turtle shook his head.

  "Art thou looking for me?"

  Again, he shook his head.

  His silence annoyed her for she did not have time to waste. “Where is White Owl?” she asked surely he could help.

  “He’s checking the traps with some of the young braves.”

  “Close by?”

  He shook his head.

  Dang, she said. “I must find thy father." With only a quick additional glance at the lad, she spun on her heel and marched toward the barn.

  Sarah sensed him following her. She glanced over her shoulder and confirmed her suspicion. Seeing him only caused her to increase her pace. What road had Wolf taken or had he ridden overland? Could she find her way without a map? She would have to try. Did she remember how to saddle a horse? Of course, she did. Although her instructor had generally done the work for her, she'd had to learn. Striding into the barn, she stared at the stalls. Two horses and a good-size pony stood in the nearest three boxes. The pony might be the best. She walked toward him.

  "What are you doing?" Little Turtle asked.

  Glancing around, she said, "I need to go after Wolf and warn him."

  "About what?" the child demanded.

  Quickly, Sarah explained then added, "I must ride after him."

  "You can't ride Pethak'aluns. He's mine."

  "Pethak'aluns?"

  He gave her a look full of disgust. "Pethak'aluns, Thunder-Arrow. He's my pony."

  "Oh." She stared at the remaining two. They looked huge! Hoping Little Turtle might help, she asked, "Which one would thee suggest?"

  "Are you a good rider?" he asked.

  "No," she said, deciding to be honest with him. "A horse threw me when I was a little older than you. I stopped riding."

  "Why?" His dark, almost black eyes studied her.

  "I had no need to ride," she said, defensively.

  He studied her. Under his forward gaze, she reddened.

  "Besides, they frightened me. Always did, actually." She leaned closer to Little Turtle. "I had to get stitches here." Sarah pointed. "And I had a large bump on my head."

  The tip of his finger traced the half-inch scar near the right side of her eye. "I have one, too. See?" He held out his hand. "I fell off a rock. Bowl Woman sewed it."

  The skin on the fleshy part of his palm showed a white gash. Sarah remembered how she had flinched at stitching Daniel and shuddered inwardly. "That gives us something in common," she said, trying to create a bond with the boy.

  He nodded. "You'd better take Sweet Water. She's gentle."

  Sarah glanced around. "Where are the saddles?"

  "In the tack room."

  "Where's that?"

  Exasperation showed in his face. "Follow me." He threw open a door near the back of the barn and said, "The two on the left are extras."

  Sarah moved toward the first one. The chestnut brown leather shone brightly in the dimly-lighted room, yet the saddle seemed hardly used. She lifted her hands to take it off the shelf.

  "That was my mother's."

  "Oh, I'll take the other one," Sarah said, unwilling to add another reason for the boy to dislike her.

  "Why? She can't use it."

  Would she ever understand this child? "Thank you." After picking up Clear Water's saddle, she turned around to see Little Turtle holding his. "What art thou doing?"

  "Going with you." He walked out of the room and toward his pony.

  She followed. "I'm not sure thy father would want thee to come.”

  He slapped on the blanket and the saddle while she stood looking at him. "If you fell off before, you might again. Besides, I know the way." The boy tightened the girth and peered over his shoulder at her. "I thought you were in a hurry?"

  Immediately, Sarah started preparing her horse. Strange how these simple motions came back to her, still she wished he would not stare at her. "We should tell Bowl Woman that we are going."

  Little Turtle led Thunder-Arrow out of the barn.

  "Will thou tell Bowl Woman, while I finish? Then come back for me," she called after him.

  "I'll grab an extra bedroll from the house."

  "Why?"

  "We'll never get back before dark." Saying this, he mounted his horse and rode toward the house.

  Spending the night with Wolf, and Little Turtle her inner voice repeated over and over. A jumble of mixed feelings careened through her. She pushed them aside and concentrated on saddling the horse.

  Finally finished, Sarah walked the mare outside, closed
the door, stood next to the horse and looked up at Sweet Water.

  Little Turtle rode up and asked, "Shall I lead?"

  She glanced at him. "Thou art sure thou knows the way?"

  He looked annoyed at her question. "My father told me the plan."

  Still, she hesitated.

  "Sweet Water won't throw you," he said, as if sensing her fear.

  Grabbing her nerve, Sarah placed her foot in the stirrup and climbed aboard. "There." She sighed with relief. Although her knees were much too high, her confidence did not extend to bending over and fixing the straps.

  Little Turtle threw his reins over Thunder Arrow and hopped down. "I'll lower the stirrups." Moments later, he had.

  The boy leaped on his pony, gave a slight kick and started. Sarah had no choice but to follow. He rode ahead of her, keeping Thunder-Arrow to a walk for the first few minutes. Sarah shifted in her seat, trying to find a comfortable spot. Little Turtle increased the pace and glanced back. She smiled weakly and matched his stride. Gradually, she adjusted. When Thunder-Arrow's gait changed to a canter, Sarah’s horse adjusted to the change. For a moment, she feared

  He turned back and rode beside her. "We must leave the road. Are you ready?"

  "Lead on, I'll keep bring up the rear."

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  "Will we intercept thy father before he reaches the fork in the river?" Sarah asked, after they had ridden for close to an hour.

  "No, but I can find him," the boy said with confidence.

  She considered questioning him further, but he sounded so sure, and since Sarah had no idea where Wolf might be or how to get there, she kept quiet. Still, a nagging voice reminded her that Little Turtle was only a boy; another, equally persuasive one overrode her objection. Few roads resembled those she knew or recognized from her century, giving her little choice but to trust the child.

  As the sun sank below the tree line, Sarah began to fear they would never arrive before dark. "Do we have much farther to go before we reach the creek?"

  Little Turtle reined in and waited for her. "Down the hill is the Brandywine. Can't you hear it?"

  She listened. The tinkling music of water washing and striking rocks caught her attention. "Oh, yes," she smiled. "I do. Strange, I didn't notice before."

  "Not so strange. You make so much noise riding that your ears can hold no other sound," he scolded her.

  His comment hurt, but she realized he only spoke the truth. Lenape, she had learned, seldom used diplomacy. Regardless, she needed to defend herself, so she said, "I was concentrating on riding and staying on Sweet Water's back."

  "That too," he nodded and started, setting the pace at a fast trot. "We will take the path that runs by the river," he called back.

  Jabbing her horse lightly with the heels of her shoes, she wondered aloud, "How far now?"

  "Not far."

  She rubbed the inside of her left thigh where the saddle had chaffed her skin. Although she wore Daniel's linen liners beneath her chemise, the thin material offered little protection for one unused to riding. No wonder women rode side-saddle.

  When she reached the crest of the hill, she glanced at the river some twenty feet below. They continued to ride, and Sarah searched for clues about where they were. Finally, she saw a familiar landmark. "Big Bend," she called out. "I know where I am!"

  "So does the whole world," a stern, quiet voice said.

  A startled gasp escaped from Sarah's throat.

  Wolf sprang into the saddle behind her, placed his arms around her waist, leaned forward, and spoke directly into her ear. "Hush!"

  Shivers of pleasure raced across her skin. "How did thee find us?" she whispered.

  He took control of her horse. "You made enough noise to be an entire regiment of soldiers."

  Although he sounded vexed, Sarah had sensed no deep anger in his voice. He breathed easily. Each breath of air whispered along the nape of her neck, sending a river of desire cascading down her spine, but this was not the time nor the place to engage in sexual fantasies, so she focused on the path. An instant later, she straightened and stared into the growing twilight. "Where is Little Turtle?" His disappearance had chased all other thoughts from her mind.

  "Ahead. Waiting for us. Now, be quiet and relax," he admonished in a gently yet hushed tone.

  She settled in. Soothed by his nearness, she rested her back against Wolf's chest. He formed a firm cushion for her. His muscular arms stretched out to hold the reins and caressed the undersides of her breasts. His touch re-ignited her yearning. She sighed and closed her eyes.

  "Comfortable?" he asked.

  "Very," she said dreamily, enjoying the sensations.

  "What took you so long?" Little Turtle asked quietly a second later.

  Sarah sat up and flushed.

  Wolf chuckled, then sobered. "We will talk at the camp." He turned Sweet Water off the main path and pulled Sarah back into his embrace. With the boy present and riding behind them no longer could she rest easily in Wolf's arms.

  A few minutes later, they reached a small clearing where a lean-to stood against a large tulip poplar tree. Off to the right side, Amen Apush stood hobbled.

  When Wolf had discovered Sarah and Little Turtle along the trail, anger and worry had gripped his gut. He had suppressed these emotions, since verbalizing them would have benefited nothing. Wolf vowed he would reprimand them as soon as they were safe. During the short ride to his camp as he held her securely in his arms, desire had replaced his fury, although nothing replaced his concern for their safety.

  "Little Turtle, please water the horses while I speak to Sarah." He vaulted down, eased off his quiver and bow, before reaching up to help her dismount.

  She smiled at him, and his heart warmed. He wanted to frown at her, but the pleasure that beamed from her face as she looked at him, dampened his negative thoughts. His hands encircled her waist, and he slid her down so that her body stayed in constant contact with his. Her eyes sparkled with intense enjoyment, increasing his desire.

  Little Turtle pulled Sweet Water's reins and led the two horses off toward the creek.

  Wolf kept their bodies molded together. He divided his concentration between his son's departure and the woman in his arms. When satisfied that the boy had gone, Wolf focused completely on Sarah. He wished only to kiss and caress her, but he stayed his wants. "Sarah, why did you come?" Part of his earlier wrath returned as he spoke for an edge crept into his tone. "And why in the name of Kitanito wet did Little Turtle come with you?"

  Her eyes flashed with outrage. She pushed against his chest. He kept his hands firmly on her arms, refusing to release her. Softening his voice, if not his thoughts, he asked, "Why, Sarah? Why did you place your life and that of my son's in danger?"

  "I forgot to warn thee about the marshlands on the left side of the river." She stared at him. The fire in her gaze vanished. "There must be an underground spring that keeps the area moist--despite the weather."

  "I grant that is important, and I will be sure to notify Jeremiah. Why did you bring Little Turtle?"

  "I did not bring him; he escorted me!"

  "Escorted you?" Her words surprised him.

  She nodded. "Thy son informed me that he knew where thee was."

  "He did."

  "He also told me that he would make sure I arrived safely. I am sure that he would not have allowed me to come alone." She smiled. "Thy son is as stubborn as thee."

  He recalled his last conversation with Little Turtle. "Forgive me for questioning you, but seeing you and Little Turtle riding alone filled me with dread." He hugged her tight.

  She returned his embrace.

  Silently, he added, I could not have lived if I had lost either of you. Instead of saying this, his lips sought and claimed hers. Anxious to declare his need, but reluctant to say the words, he plunged his tongue inside, skirting yet touching each section of mouth. Her mint sweet breath invaded his, and he sought to possess more of her.

  His hands mov
ed up her body, until they touched her breasts. He cupped them, brushing her nipples with his thumbs and relishing the intimacy. His lips left her mouth and traced a path across her cheeks to her ear lobe. He nibbled on the soft, tender skin, before pursuing a trail down her neck. At the base of her throat, he drew her skin into his mouth and sucked. Her breath came in short, passionate pants and increased his pleasure. Wolf wanted to see and not just hear her reaction, so he eased his lips away. Her eyes appeared glazed. He placed a kiss on each eye lid.

  With his tongue, he traced a path around her mouth. She parted her moistened lips. Willingly, he responded. Plowing his fingers into her thick, chestnut hair, he massaged the base of her skull. He wanted her. Now. Here. On the ground. Inside the hut. Anywhere.

  The sound of horses broke the spell. He pulled away. "Sit here." Sarah glanced up at him, her face revealing her hunger, her need, and her disappointment. An emotion he definitely shared. Further, her reddened cheeks and the passion mark on her neck proclaimed their passion and reminded him to adjust his loin-cloth. Briefly, he touched the top of her head, before walking away.

  "Little Turtle, while I unsaddle and hobble the horses, please fetch the food bag from the tree. We can't risk a fire tonight, so we must make do with dried food."

  Quickly, Wolf finished his chores and then hunkered down near Sarah. "I must find Jeremiah and tell him."

  "What can I do while you are gone?" his son asked, before biting off a piece of dried turkey.

  "Stay here and keep an eye on Sarah." Wolf smiled at her. "Just as you did on your trip here." He ruffled his son's short scalp lock.

  The child's face beamed with pride. "Yes, sir," he mumbled, his mouth half-full of meat.

  As Wolf stood, he said, "There's enough room for both of you inside the lean-to. When I return, I'll throw my bear-skin on the ground." He pointed to an area directly in front of the half-moon structure.

  After adjusting his bow and quiver, he trotted off to search for Jeremiah and his men. Wolf had camped east of the river and a quarter of a mile south of the rendezvous spot. Never would he sleep in the Colonial encampment, for it was impossible to call these men friends or even true allies. Before setting up his camp, Wolf had corroborated the information Sarah had given them. Not only had he discovered how accurate her description of Doe Run was, but he had found the swampy area on the west side. When Sarah told why she had come, he considered mentioning that he already knew. However, the pleasure he saw when she imparted her information had quickly dissuaded him.