by Adair, Mary
With a hard heave he pushed up and flipped to his back trying to remove himself from her. But she clung tight and straddled him.
Over and over she shoved the knife in, each time angling it in another direction, while he struggled weakly to escape her. After what seemed a long time, the struggles ended.
She rolled from him and lay there exhausted. She had washed herself then, scrubbing not only the blood from her body but the feel of his hands and hot breath from her skin.
***
New Moon looked toward the east. Grandmother sun had risen and made her way above the treetops. Surely it would not be much longer.
She heard a shout and turned her gaze back toward the fort. The gate opened and a flat bed wagon containing a large wooden cage rolled through.
New Moon's fingertips dug into the bark of the tree. She hugged her arms about it as if it were a lover. Her cheek pressed hard against its surface and she could feel the throbbing of her body against its hard bark as her heart beat like an animal's trying to free itself from the cage of her body.
The wagon came closer and she slipped silently out of sight of the driver. As the wagon passed she stepped out and could see Panther huddled in the back, his face pressed against the wooden bars while he sat sprawled in the corner.
She willed that he would open his eyes, and he did. Their eyes met, but she was not sure he had enough time to gather his thoughts before she ducked back behind cover.
The wagon moved slowly. New Moon knew the guards were unconcerned about possible dangers. They were will within French Territory, and the prisoner they escorted lay half-dead in the French man's rolling prison with no one to care if he made it to New Orleans dead or alive.
But they were wrong. Behind the caravan of ten guards and one half-dead captive, stalked another, one with the skill of a warrior and the heart of a lioness. She would prove it to them. She was Wa-sa, and they had her Panther.
New Moon followed the wagon for three days, waiting for the new moon, the time that the spirits would work in her favor.
***
James had been given a small skin of stale water. He picked up the skin and sipped sparingly. Each day he felt stronger even though they gave him little to eat. Each night he dreamed of New Moon.
He was certain now he'd seen her. At first he'd thought himself dreaming. He turned his face to the breeze and breathed deeply. She waited out there...somewhere.
James woke. He opened his eyes to utter darkness. He heard something. Slowly he turned his head and peered into the darkness. His eyes strayed to the dark sky. It was a new moon. She would come tonight. He smiled. She had said she would come for him if he stayed away too long.
His warrior training came to the forefront, as he once again became Red Panther. His ears tuned into the sounds of nature, the nervous stepping of the horses, the absence of the scurrying noises made by the night creatures.
He made no sound as he rose to his knees. His eyes turned again to the doorway and he saw New Moon standing there. The door swung open. Nether said a word as he crawled forward and out of the cage.
Not far away New Moon had tethered a horse. He took a hand full of mane and half swung, half pulled himself onto the horse's back. He hardly noticed the strong grip of a steadying hand as he drifted into unconsciousness.
James felt the heat of the sun bearing down on him. He'd been stripped and was laying spread eagle on the ground, tied in place with rawhide straps.
He could hear the laughter and taunts of his captors; he could feel the sting in the many cuts made by their beatings, as they poured salt onto the angry flesh.
Soft whispers to be still reached his ears and New Moon's face floated in his memory. He felt her soft hands caressing his face and felt cool water slide over his heated body. She told him to be silent and to be still.
Suddenly he was cold and he wanted to cry out in his misery, but the voice returned and he lay quietly trembling, clinching his teeth to keep them from chattering.
***
James smelled smoke and opened his eyes. He lay in a cave covered by white men's blankets. He heard a noise and turned his head to see New Moon just returning. He watched as she carefully concealed the small opening and wondered how she could have dragged him inside.
The faint glow from the small fire afforded little light, but it was enough for him to watch New Moon move about while he lay helpless in the shadows.
New Moon wore the legging and waistcloth of a warrior. Her hair, held from her face by his beaded headband, fell loosely over one shoulder and down to partially cover one bare breast.
As she moved gracefully about the small shelter he watcher her with pride. He should beat her for risking her life in such a way. Good Lord! He swore in his mind. She could have been captured … raped and tortured before given the gift of death!
His thoughts spun frantically with the horrors that could have befallen her, but they hadn't, he told himself at last. He watched as she squatted before the fire and filled a wooden bowl with broth.
She rose again, and the play of light and shadows across her smooth copper skin caused his stomach to tighten with a mixture of his need for her, and the fear of what could have happened to her because of him.
New Moon turned and walked slowly in his direction, "We are in the mountains again. You have slept long and must eat now, my beloved."
A smile came to his lips. She squatted down beside him and he breathed deeply of her scent. "How did you know I was awake?" He knew his voice was weak, yet he could see the pleasure in her eyes when he spoke.
"I know when you are watching me." She answered him. "I have learned, when I am near, you are as aware of me as I am of you. Is it not so, because I was near, you woke from the death sleep and were ready when I opened the cage they had put you in? Did you not hear me through the sickness when I pleaded with you to be quiet? If you had not we would have been in the French camp now."
He raised a trembling hand toward her face and cursed his own weakness. "You should not have come. You could have been killed, then what would I have done?" His strength gave out and his arm sank down before he could touch her moist cheek.
New Moon caught his wrist and brought his hand to her face. "I did not come alone." She kissed each of his fingers. "Buffalo came."
"Buffalo is barely more than a boy."
"He is a warrior. He will return to the village with two scalps. The village will be proud and the ida:hnvwi:sg will give him a new name." She traced his fingertips along her lips. "Yellow Blanket came as well, and Runs Far. You will not see them until you are ready to travel."
She nuzzled her cheek into his palm and then brought his hand down along her neck and slowly to her breast. His gaze followed as she pressed his open palm over her heart and held it there. He could feel the strong steady beat.
"Do you feel my heart, Panther?"
Panther raised his eyes to hers.
"I give you my strength."
"You should not have come," his voice was little more than a whisper."
"You are forever telling me that I belong to you. Now I will tell you. You belong to me. I did not want you to go, but I knew you must follow your heart. Know, my beloved, I will follow my heart as well. I owe this to our child."
Panther's eyes slid to her breast, "That was the something you wanted to tell me before I left. Why did you not tell me that you carried my child within you?"
"Would you have stayed?"
"I don't know. I think I would have stayed with you."
"If you had, you would not be the warrior I have given my heart to."
James caressed her breast as she held his hand tightly against her skin. "You say you have given your heart to me, yet you will not say that you belong to me. Will you ever give me that part of you that you hold apart from me?"
"New Moon looked deep into his eyes. "I would give you anything. Do you not understand that I have already given you everything?"
James grinned. "I have waited
a long time to hear you admit that you belong to me."
She bent and pressed her lips gently to his. Then she straightened and her demeanor became serious. She placed his hand on his own chest and patted it quickly before rolling up a blanket and placing it behind his neck and shoulders.
"You must eat now and become strong. Our daughter is without her mother and my breasts ache for her."
Panther brightened, "Your breast need not ache, Little Wa-sa."
New Moon raised a brow, "Don't you want to hear about the daughter I gave you while you were out avenging your blood lust on the whole of the French army." She brought the spoon to his mouth and tilted it so the broth flowed between his lips.
When she took the spoon away he answered, "It wasn't the entire French army any more than it was the whole Choctaw nation that I led into battle.
She brought another spoonful toward his lips and he pulled back long enough to add, "Please, Wa-sa, tell me about our daughter."
The next few bits were given in silence. Finally, she began to speak of her new baby.
"She is a beautiful child, but I am at a loss as to a good name for her." New Moon sat down the bowl and held out her hands. "She is only this long, and her hair is the color of corn silk."
Panther's eyes widened, "The bairn is a tow head? Me own sweet mother had hair as golden and bright as corn silk."
"Tow head?" New Moon repeated the words carefully. Panther let out a tired but contented sigh, "Aye, tow head. It means to have hair that is a light color."
New Moon brightened, "Tow Head."
"No. No, Wa-sa," Panther tried to rise to his elbows. "I'll not have a child of mine named Tow Head. It's not a name, New Moon, and certainly not the name for a girl. My daughter must have a special name."
New Moon laughed as she pushed him back down, "You may name your daughter when you see her, Panther."
***
The days turned to weeks as New Moon brought her warrior back to health. Each day he grew stronger. Each day he spent fewer hours in sleep and more hours stalking about the cave and short distances beyond to bring life back into his muscles. And each night New Moon prepared their meal from freshly killed game that found its way to a tree branch just outside their shelter.
"Why do the others stay away?" Panther asked one night as New Moon cleared away the last of their evening meal.
She looked over to where Panther lounged, propped on one elbow with a blanket pulled up to his waist.
"You are asking me this question? The warrior that bellows like an injured boar at anyone who calls to you from outside your lodge?"
An auburn brow arched, "Is this our lodge then? Why are you wearing clothes? Did I not make a law about wearing clothes in our lodge?" he teased.
"You did my husband, but it is chilly at night and my blanket by itself will not keep me warm." Even in the poorly lit shelter New Moon could see the heat building in his eyes.
Panther smiled. "We have been here a long time. You have done well to avoid my blanket, but I would not have you avoid it again tonight."
"You have been weak, my husband," she responded casually and put the last of her things away.
"I'm no longer weak, Wa-sa," he said as he pulled the blanket aside.
Her eyes lowered and she shrugged, "You show much pride in such a small accomplishment."
"Tis no such a wee accomplishment missy. Come lie down beside me and we shall discuss this matter a bit more thoroughly."
New Moon tilted her chin in a defiant angle, "Oh, but I have work ta be doin' an' I can no be wastin' my time with such as this."
Panther was surprised to hear her uncanny way of mocking him in his own brogue. He laughed in delight as he reached out and grabbed her arm and pulled her roughly down on top of him.
"Aye. Ye do have a mighty workload to contend with, me darlin'. I'd say 'tis goin' ta take ye most of tha night ta be done with it." He captured her face between his hands as she stretched her body out and settled herself comfortably over him.
He brought his lips close to hers to touch them gently in short, soft kisses.
"So you had best be gettin' busy, my little darlin'. I can no be waitin’ all night."
She went to him then and said all the things that were in her heart and all the things he had longed to hear. What she did not tell him was her vision of a beautiful white woman with golden hair and eyes the color of a summer sky.
If only she had understood. The dream was no longer a source of great pain and dread for her. But was intended by the Great Spirit to be a promise of fulfillment from the love they shared and the beauty their daughter would become.
The End
But the story continues with:
Raven’s Passion and Passion’s Price
Thank you for purchasing PASSION’S VISION. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Your comments make me a better writer. Please take time to leave a review on Amazon http://tinyurl.com/nnfedyh
Thank you for purchasing my book,
Mary Adair
Bibliography
History of the American Indians, by James Adair. ISBN-65-27150. Published 1930 By The National Society of Colonial Dames of America, in Tennessee. Published for University Microfilms Inc. Ann Arbor by Argonaut Press LTD., New York 1966
Myths of the Cherokee and Sacred Formula of the Cherokee by James Mooney. Reproduced 1982 by Charles and Randy Elder-Booksellers Publishers ISBN 0-918450-22-5
History of the Cherokee Indians and Their Legends and Folk Lore by Emmet Starr. Pub. by Hoffman Printing Co. Inc. Muskogee, OK. 1984
The story of the Cherokee People, by Tom B. Underwood Cherokee publications ISBN 0-935741-01-1
American Indian Cooking and Herb Lore, by J. Ed Sharpe and Thomas B. Underwood. Cherokee pub. ISBN 0-935741-05-4
Cherokee Plants, by Paul B. Hamel and Mary U. Chiltoskey. Library of Congress Catalog Card Number 75-27776
Cherokee Legends and the Trail of Tears, by Thomas Bryan Underwood ISBN 0-935741-00-3
Thank you for purchasing PASSION’S VISION. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Your comments make me a better writer. Please take time to leave a review on Amazon http://tinyurl.com/nnfedyh
Thank you for purchasing my book,
Mary Adair
About the Author
Like all writers, writing is a passion with Mary. Mary says she wakes up thinking about her characters, talks about them to her husband for hours on end, and dreams about them at night.
Passion's Vision is Mary’s personal favorite in the Passion Series. It was awarded Reader’s Favorite 2014 Finalist in Historical Romance, and it was awarded the Betty Henrich's Award for Most Publishable Romance at the Dallas Writers Association Convention in 1994. It is the first book Mary published. The second book of the Passion series, Passion’s Price, is also published. Raven’s Passion came to be out of requests from readers for a story about Raven’s younger years and actually takes place before Passion’s Price.
Book 2: Raven’s Passion
Raven’s Passion
Book 2 in Passion’s Series
Historical Romance
By
Mary Adair
Copyright 2014 Mary Adair
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or introduced into a retrieval system or introduced into a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author’s imagination or used fictionally.
Dedication:
With love, I dedicate Raven’s Passion to my husband, Michael and my son Michael, who is truly the apple of his mother’s eye.
Special Thanks:
To my good friend Caroline Clemmons who is always there to share with
, to cry with and to laugh with. You are truly a sister I chose. Lilburn Smith, thank you for being so patient with my stumbling attempts to learn the techie stuff. In addition, a big thanks to Joseph Waters, your insights gave Raven’s character the dimension I was looking for.
Prologue:
Raven Who Flies To Meet The Clouds ran toward a pair of older opponents, one with the ball set in his stick while the other worked to block and whip the young warriors on the opposing team. Raven moved deftly, continuing a long sprint that led him arcing behind the duo. Hair as black as his namesake streamed behind him, tribute to his speed. His friend, Farthest Running Antelope, sticks held to his side with arms tense and jaw tight, moved in from the other side.
The Cherokee around the field whooped as they saw the action unfolding, calls echoing back and forth to bet on who would hit the others first. Antelope honored his totem, making a mad leap as he closed the distance to tackle the one with the ball. Raven spun with sticks outstretched, sweeping his adversary's feet out from under him just as he turned to see Antelope's attack.
The rushed duo rolled to a stop in the dirt. Raven and Antelope turned and took off down the field with the ball in their control. A cluster of teammates from both sides rushed after the new targets while the watching crowd exchanged grains, knives, and other goods to settle their bets. Those items would surely swap hands a dozen times more before the game of stickball finally ended.
Observers came and went as the game raced throughout the day, though some stood by with rapt attention to bet and cheer on friends. No official decision rested on this one's outcome, and mostly warriors and young men of Chota Town played. However, this was the first full-scale game for many of the younger warriors. What's more, several experienced players were involved. Those that played now did so to prove themselves, earning respect and beginning to build their own stories of prowess and skill.