Until now, the perception of us had paralleled a dream. The forest, the meadow, and the gates to the pathway of the manor were all imaginary places compared to the realness of the village. No one cared that William and I were together. Of course, if my parents found us at the gates they would care, but that was an insignificant detail. I could wave it away, for it would never happen. However, in the meadow, in the forest, and even in front of the gates to my doomed hell, no one passed judgment. Well, I suppose I did, but no one else did. More importantly, no one watched us with disapproving eyes. We were just us, free to do whatever we wanted. With the village, though, came everything that scared me: concern, judgment, and disapproving eyes. Our freedom was lost in the village.
Several log cottages with smoke billowing from their chimney stacks stood clustered sporadically around the clearing in the forest. The village was alive with people. Men were leading oxen hitched to supply-filled wagons. A few women were hanging up wet laundry to dry on clothes lines, while others plucked vegetables from their private gardens, or beat rugs with sticks sending dust particles puffing in every direction into the air. Children ran around the fenced yards laughing while barking dogs chased them, or scampering down the dirt road, waving sticks and shouting they would win today’s stick game.
No matter their activities, though, as we rode down the road and through the cottages everyone gawked as we passed. One woman, who stood in her yard next to a rug hanging on the line, threw down her broom in disgust. The wooden handle nearly breaking with her unbridled anger.
“Enkvpvketv vm tvlofuce. Enkvpvketv vm tvlofuce,” she shouted, her fists balled in the air, her disgust punctuated by each uttered word.
Unable to bear her expression for only a few seconds, I touched my forehead to block the sight of her with my sweaty hand. This is exactly why I didn’t want to come here. Why had William brought me? Why put me, or his family, in such a situation?
“What is she saying?” I asked.
“Her words aren’t important.”
“Tell me.”
He groaned, exhaling a deep sigh. “She doesn’t wish for your presence in the village.”
I glanced at the ground, catching sight of the old woman out of the corner of my eye. She shook her head and marched into her cabin, slamming the door behind her.
“William does everyone—”
“Their opinion isn’t significant.”
“But—”
Thundering hooves interrupted my thoughts. A horse galloped across the road, heading straight for us. Nearly colliding, both horses flinched and Essiyetv jumped, pinning his ears and biting the air in anger. I slipped from the sudden jerk and William grabbed my waist, drawing me against his chest before I fell to the ground.
I recognized the young man from the day at the café. His eyes were wide and untamed like those of a wild beast charging in anger. His nostrils flared, and his body was tense. His horse danced in fear, but he held the reins tight and banged his fists against his bare chest.
“You are excused, Charlie,” William barked as he cued Essiyetv to continue.
Charlie watched us pass. The hatred in his stare chewed on my nerves. He cued his horse to follow, staying too close for Essiyetv’s liking. I clung to William’s arm and laced my fingers through Essiyetv’s mane. I wanted to scream at Charlie, shout at him to stay away from me, from us, but to do so would be thoughtless beyond words. Essiyetv pinned his ears, swished his tail, or threw his head when the other horse bumped against him.
“Vne mecetv-eko eyacetvs eokepkv,” Charlie said over and over, each time his voice became progressively louder.
William gripped me tighter, jerked Essiyetv to a halt, and spun him to face Charlie. As suddenly as his horse hooves twisted in the dirt, Essiyetv lunged forward guided by William’s leg cues and collided with Charlie's horse, chest to chest. I bit my lip to keep from screaming as the thud of horse flesh meeting horse flesh echoed. Charlie’s horse tried to bolt, nearly dumping him on the ground. He jerked the reins, beat on his chest with his fists a few times, and rode off.
William ignored him and cued Essiyetv to continue down the path.
“What did he say?” I asked.
“He didn’t need my pardon.”
A cottage stood alone, nestled in the tree line. Made from cut old oak trees, it blended into the shadows of the forest, making it difficult to see. Rugs hung over the porch railings and candlelight flickered through the cracks in the closed shutters. The log walls were still barked in some places, and the roughness gave the cabin a charm that seemed to ease my fear, even if only for a moment. It reminded me of the darling little wood cottages I’d read about in books when still a young girl. Ones I’d dreamed of living in with Sarah and George as their adopted daughter, and away from my parents.
A man and a woman sat in rocking chairs on the front porch. They glanced at each other as we approached, both with a look of feared concern and scared apprehension. William climbed off Essiyetv and helped me dismount. He smiled and clasped my shaking, sweaty hand in his as my feet hit the dirt. My knees threatened to buckle, and I grabbed his arm to steady myself.
“Don’t worry,” he whispered, touching his forehead to mine.
I walked beside him along the small path to the cottage. Like the weight of carrying heavy rocks or standing in sandy quicksand, my feet dragged. Scared and unsure of how his parents would receive me, my nerves twisted my stomach.
As we reached the porch, his mother smiled and stood. “We are so happy to finally meet you. I’m Chenoa,” she said, embracing me in a tight hug.
Delicate and beautiful, she had William’s perfect brown eyes and long black hair, and her face was full of wisdom and kindness. She stood an inch shorter than me, but her petite body was muscular and strong. Her movements mirrored that of a cat, silent and deadly if crossed or hunting, yet gentle in the day to day simple life with her husband and son.
“We certainly have heard a great many things about you,” William’s father said, stepping forward to grasp my hand and bestow it with a squeeze.
Years of work had made his hands worn and rough. His deep voice was as warm and welcoming as his sincere face and his smile was genuine and caring. While William resembled his mother in appearance, he resembled his father physically, a natural leader with the same strong presence, broad shoulders, and wide chest. Standing toe to toe, the two of them definitely couldn’t be told apart, if viewed from behind.
William was quite the perfect combination of the two of them.
“Please come inside,” Mrs. Graysden said. She reached for my hand, then turned the doorknob and led me into the cabin to a tiny, lopsided table that had seen many years of family meals.
The floors creaked under my feet, and the house smelled like William, a mixed scent of wood and dirt, an essence of nature I loved. The whole cottage could have fit inside the parlor of my parents’ manor, but that didn’t matter. Love dwelled within the walls, in every pore of every piece of wood, and it felt like a home.
A fire blazed in the fireplace next to a bed covered with a bright red quilt, which stood in contrast with all the other mismatched furniture and colors. Next to the bed, stood a single dresser crouched in the corner. The top was lined with pots made of red and stained clay.
No walls existed between the rooms, both a blessing and a curse, surely, when it came to privacy. The room looked larger on the inside compared to the tiny feeling on the outside. If truth be told, the cabin was much bigger and nicer than the slave quarters at the manor, a place, I’d snuck off to visit as a little girl too often with Sarah. Lying in her bed and watching her cook eggs, dreaming of a life lived there instead of the hollow, loveless walls of the great house had been a particular favorite pastime of mine, and even now, I could smell Sarah's special fried eggs cooked in lard.
“Alexandra, a
re you thirsty?” William asked. He walked up behind me, stepping as close as he could. His heat paralyzed my senses, and my knees weakened.
“Yes, I am. I slipped out of my parent’s house and ran the entire way to the trees,” I laughed.
Mrs. Graysden smiled and cocked her head as she gazed at her husband. “I’ve often questioned whether sneaking around is worth the thrill, or if it’s just exhausting,” she laughed.
“I think it would be exhausting,” Mr. Graysden sighed.
“We never had to do much sneaking, did we, Jim?”
“Speak for yourself. Your father watched me with hawk eyes until after your fifteenth year.”
“Of course he did. I was just a young girl, you old goat.” She leaned against the back of her chair and playfully slapped his arm.
“You certainly were a cute one,” he mocked.
“I meant after I changed my mind. You know my father loved you and never had a problem with your affections for me.”
“You mean after you came to your senses? Yes dear, I know he didn’t,” he laughed.
Suddenly, someone pounded on the front door so hard the cottage shook and a candlestick fell off the shelf nailed on the wall.
“Jim, open the door at once,” a deep, angered voice shouted.
The man repeated his demand before pounding against the door several more times. William and his father both stood and glanced at each other, their muscles tight. Mr. Graysden opened the door just enough for his body to block my view from the man outside.
“Where’s the girl?” the man asked, his voice cracking in anger.
I rose from the chair, choking with tension. Every hair on my arms and neck stood on end. The vision of the worst that could happen was coming to life right in front of me. I didn't know exactly how many tribal clan members were standing outside. Perhaps it was just one or perhaps it was the whole village. William shifted me behind him, and kept his arm wrapped around my side, a protective stance that didn’t ease any of my fears. What did he know of the scene waiting outside the door that I didn’t? His tribal clan had already voiced their disapproval, to what extent, though, he never told me. Had they threatened against my possible visit?
“Andrew, I wasn’t aware the girl’s whereabouts, or my son’s affections, were your business,” Mr. Graysden said.
“They are when his actions endanger my life, my clan, and my family,” Andrew shouted.
William’s grip tightened around me as Mrs. Graysden stood and marched closer to Mr. Graysden, who was still blocking the doorway.
Andrew remained outside the door and moved his head to the side, staring at me through the small window over Mr. Graysden’s shoulder, his eyes buried deep into mine. Charlie stood behind his father with an equal look of disdain and an unforgettable, chilling gaze.
“Jim, she’s not welcome here,” Andrew shouted, pointing at me.
“According to you, only. Our council never reached a decision because our elder leader left the choice for me.”
“Jim, our elder leader is your sister. Of course, she will foolishly leave the decision for you and not the clan, as she should. Her mental state is incapable of making the best choice for this clan. Your family seems unable to do anything.”
Mr. Graysden thrust the door open so hard it slammed into the wall. “This clan began with my father and Chenoa’s father, men who made sacrifices for their families’ years before you came to these lands with your family. They fought for this land, and Chenoa’s father died for this land. How dare you attack me about matters regarding my own family?”
“If you and your sister assume authority, then our protection should be the first priority. We aren’t safe if she is here.”
“I won’t ask or demand her to leave and neither will you, your son, or anyone else.” Mr. Graysden slammed the door in Andrew’s face, then rested the palms of his hands on the wood, silently working to control his erratic breathing.
“Jim, I—”
“Chenoa, I love you, but please don’t say anything.”
She retreated a few steps and glanced at William.
In the maddening silence, the desire to hide deep within a corner and away from all the pain and suffering that my presence caused was overwhelming.
Mr. Graysden finally faced William and me with his arms crossed.
“Father—”
Mr. Graysden raised his hand and William closed his mouth.
“William, is she who you’ve chosen?”
“Yes.”
“Out of every young girl in this world, you’ve chosen her, her out of—”
“Just as you chose me, Jim.” Mrs. Graysden interrupted, stepping in between her husband and her son.
“But I didn’t have a village disagreeing with my choice. My parents didn’t suffer prejudice from their own family for us to be together.”
“And what if you had?” she asked. “What would you’ve done if my father had said no? Would you have walked away from me? Your son has grown into a good man. He is happy, and he deserves to be. Allow him to live with his happiness.”
Mr. Graysden glanced at William. “Take Alexandra home.”
“But—”
“Take Alexandra home.”
William didn’t try to argue, he only nodded. Mr. Graysden left the cottage, slamming the door in his wake and knocking the other candlestick from the shelf. I didn’t want to leave, but no one should stay past his or her welcome, especially the uninvited. William grabbed my hand and led me to the door, only to be stopped by Mrs. Graysden.
“William, your father didn’t mean to sound as though we don’t accept your relationship with Alexandra, or that we don’t want her in our home.”
“I know, Mother.”
“He only wishes to know if you are certain of what you desire before he fights for you and her. Everyone’s just concerned for their own safety. Thomas Ludlow is an extremely powerful man. You can’t deny that.”
“No, I can’t.”
The cheerfulness in the room had disappeared, leaving a coldness that chilled deeper than the shadows of the trees. The thought of holding onto William with all of my strength began to fade, cloaked by the obvious anger of the people in the village, as it should, I suppose. How does one find pleasure or continue to go on in a sea of rejection? I was no more welcome in the village than a fox in the chicken coop. Perhaps, Andrew, Charlie, and all the others were right to disapprove of me. I didn’t belong here. And I never would.
William cued Essiyetv to cut through the forest instead of venture down the road again, giving a wide berth to the cottages of the village. We rode in silence all the way to the manor. Even in the light of the afternoon, the forest seemed dark. Perhaps it mirrored my mood. For how could I see light now? Light reflected happiness, light reflected hope for a blessed day, free of heartbreak and turmoil. The exact opposite of what the day had been—a disaster and full of anger.
“Alexandra, I want to apologize for this afternoon,” he finally said, halting Essiyetv at the edge of the tree line. “I didn’t think Andrew would be so bold as to visit my parents, and I put you in danger.”
“No one can predict the actions of another, William, and you can’t force my existence onto your family.”
I looked across the field at the gates, across the edge of the world I needed to return to, although I didn’t want to. The iron gates mocked me, as if they waited for me to pass through before slamming shut with a bang. Nothing good had come from today. Once again, we faced the heartbreaking, harsh truth of our one simple problem. We didn’t belong in each other’s worlds.
William’s arms wrapped around me, the warmth seemed to ease the crushing feeling, if only for a second. How was I supposed to tell him we shouldn’t see each other anymore? I didn’t want to think about the w
ords, let alone say them out loud.
“Do you have plans for tomorrow?” he asked.
I shook my head. “No, but William, I—”
“Don’t you dare say what I know you are about to say.”
“But—”
“No, Alexandra. I won’t listen. I will never agree with you, no matter what you say. I know what I want.” He paused for a few seconds, shook his head, and stepped closer to me. “I will be waiting for you in the morning. If you want to see me, if you want to spend the day with me, then come. If you don’t, though, know that you will never see me again.”
Chapter 14
The late afternoon sun dipped behind the clouds, chilling the air before nestling away for its evening slumber. Sitting in the tall grass of the meadow with a blanket wrapped around my shoulders tight, the gentle breeze blew my hair into my face. Crows cawed in the sky—their long black wings carried them through the air above the trees with ease.
The meadow was quiet, peaceful, and serene, and abruptly interrupted by a loud gunshot.
I fell over, laying against the grass and covered my ears. The thunderous shot pounded through my chest, and wildlife fled the trees around the meadow, just as scared as I was.
“William, what the devil do you think you are doing?” I shouted.
“And, that is your first lesson on why a bow and arrow are better than a gun.” He laughed.
“What are you talking about?”
“While guns prove efficient in hunting and defense, I prefer the bow and arrow. It’s quieter.” He pulled a bow from behind his back, his devious, coy smile made me nervous. “Are you ready to learn how to shoot it?”
The Woman on the Painted Horse Page 13