Whispered Promise

by Colleen French

  She lifted her skirt and tore off a neat square of cranberry linen. "Return this to the innkeeper, Joshua, and he'll pay you the remainder."

  "What?" Little Possum looked at her in disbelief. "You thought we were dishonest."

  She shrugged. "No. But this was just a precaution. You return to the inn without the strip of cloth, Joshua and my family will have your heads on a spit, so mind you don't lose it." She waved her hand. "Now go on with you before he loses his patience and scalps us all."

  Little Possum shook his head. "A deal was a deal and we want the rest of our coin now."

  The Shawnee brave stepped up behind Leah. "The equewa tells you to go." His dark-eyed gaze bore into them threateningly. "So, go."

  Little Possum and his friend turned on the path and disappeared into the darkness.

  Leah exhaled slowly. Now she was alone in the forest with a man she didn't know. A savage. She looked at the man whom she had no choice but to trust. "You'll take me to Harrison?"

  "I am called Taa Aauan," he told her tapping his broad chest with his fist. "Taa. I am friend to Harrison."

  "He'll appreciate you giving me aid. My name is Leah, Leah Beale. I come from a place called Tanner's Gift on the other side of the bay." She looked past him. "Is it this way to your village?"

  He turned on his heels. "Follow this man close. If I tell you to run, run as if the wind devil was at your back. You understand my words?"

  Knowing better than to question the brave, she only nodded. "I understand."

  He slipped off the path and silently into the darkness. "Follow," he murmured.

  They traveled perhaps half a mile through the dark, overgrown woods. Twice Leah was forced to get down on her hands and knees and crawl through brush tunnels. Greenbriars tore at her hair and face, scratching and drawing blood. Her hair came unpinned to tumble freely across her shoulders, but she kept up and remained silent. If she didn't do as Taa said, she knew he would leave her behind.

  Leah heard the village before she saw it. She heard the murmur of voices, the bark of a dog, the cry of a baby. The smell of hickory campfire smoke and roasted venison hung in the air.

  Taa led her out of the forest and into the clearing where the village stood. Hut-like structures built of tree saplings and bark jutted out of the ground like wild mushrooms. Wigwams, Harrison had told her they were called. He had once slept in a wigwam with his grandmother as a child. She remembered him telling her what an adventure it had been.

  Leah took in her surroundings. Few people were to be seen. It appeared that the cold wind and darkness had sent the Shawnee into their warm homes. Smoke curled out of the roofs of the wigwams to hang in the treetops in a ghostly canopy. Somewhere a pony whinnied and another answered. The soft rhythmic pounding of a drum reverberated in the air, but she couldn't tell where the sound was coming from. Taa led her past a wigwam. A woman stood by her campfire stirring the contents of a pot with a long stick. Leah smiled, but the Indian woman turned away.

  "This way to the wigwam of the Harrison. This man must return to his watch."

  They passed another woman who carried an infant on her back and led a small boy. No men were to be seen anywhere.

  Taa stopped her and spoke. The woman averted her eyes from Leah. She answered rapidly in her native tongue and then walked away.

  Taa turned to Leah. "There is his wigwam." He pointed. "Go and wait for him."

  "But where is he? You said he was here. This can't wait."

  "The Harrison stands at High Council with the others."

  "But how long will that take?"

  "He will come when he comes. One hour, two, a day. This man does not know. Council meets until Council is over."

  Leah grabbed his arm. "High Council? Where? I tell you I have to see him."

  "There." He pointed to a wigwam that was long rather than round. She suddenly realized that that was where the sound of the drums was coming from.

  "Please, Taa. Please take me to him. You don't understand how important this is."

  Taa pointed to the wigwam. "Inside white equewa. There you will wait."

  Leah took one look at the hut, then scrutinized the ceremonial house. The sound of the drums was growing softer. She thought she could hear voices now, voices in heated debate.

  She groaned in indecision. She had wasted a day traveling across the Delaware Bay to Annapolis, another in the town, and yet another getting here. It had been over two and a half weeks since her husband and son were captured. She just couldn't waste any more time. William just didn't have it.

  Leah started for the ceremonial house, her jaw set in determination.

  "You cannot go in there! You are a stranger to us!" Taa called after her.

  "I have to see him," she shouted.

  "Stop!"

  Leah broke into a run. The ceremonial house was only across a grassy patch. She reached the deerhide that fell over the doorway and snatched it back before Taa reached her.

  The moment she stepped inside and saw the hostile bronze faces all turned to look at her, as soon as she smelled the pungent burning herbs, and felt the heat of the hot fire inside, she knew she'd erred. But it was too late now.

  Taa came pushing in behind her. "I said you could not enter, woman!" he shouted fiercely.

  She scanned the sea of black eyes that stared at her. She panted as much out of fear as from the exertion of the run. "Harrison! It's me, it's Leah." She leaned one way and then the other, frantically searching for a familiar face. "Harrison, show yourself!"

  Harrison's head was bent to smoke a clay pipe when he heard Leah's voice. For a moment he thought she was a ghost, a ghost or the creation of mind-altering herbs sometimes smoked in pipes. But he knew the pipe bowl held naught but tobacco.

  He looked up at the doorway. There standing beside his friend Taa was Leah, his Leah. For a moment time went tumbling backwards. For a moment he felt that same surge of giddy joy he felt once he had set sight on her lovely face.

  Then it was gone.

  Then there was nothing left in his heart but a vast emptiness. Harsh anger tightened his chest and forced a lump up in his throat. She had betrayed him. She had betrayed him and their love.

  Still, he couldn't take his eyes off her.

  Nine years and she'd not changed a bit. Nine years and she still had the same heart-shaped face, the same brilliant red hair, the same blue eyes, the same curved lips. Good God, how beautiful she was even with her tangled hair, torn, soiled clothing and haggard face.

  "Taa!" Harrison barked. "Ne nipauwi!"

  Taa grasped her shoulder and tried to pull her back roughly. "Nschiwelendam! You should not have come, woman! You should not have disturbed the High Council!"

  Leah struggled to hold her ground, shoving the Indian backward. "Harrison! Please! I must speak with you!"

  An excited murmur of voices rose in the smoky longhouse as the villagers stared at the white woman who had invaded their council meeting.

  Taa grabbed Leah by both arms and began to drag her back through the doorway.

  Leah kicked and fought. "Please, Harrison. I beg you!"

  Harrison strode toward her, his face taut with fury. He was dressed as the other men in leather fringed leggings and a doeskin tunic. He wore his waist-length black hair loose down his back in a wave of shining obsidian. He had grown taller since the last time he had lain in the grass and made love with Leah.

  "You have no right to enter this holy ground," he shouted, pointing an accusing finger. "You do not belong here, white woman. Take yourself from this place!"

  Leah caught the sapling door frame as Taa tried to pull her backward through it. "I'm sorry Harrison. But it's important." Her gaze met his fierce one. "Do you think I would come this far, after all this time, if I didn't truly need you?"

  Harrison suddenly lowered his gaze. "Taa! Release her," he ordered in his own tongue.

  The brave let go of Leah and she swayed to keep her balance. "Harrison?"

  He whipped aro
und unable to stand the sight of her face, the face that still haunted his dreams after all these years. "Go with Taa to my wigwam and wait there," he said sharply. "Do not disturb me or this council again."

  Leah lingered in the doorway for another second. Harrison could feel her blue-eyed gaze boring through his back. Then he heard the skin on the door frame fall and she was gone.

  Harrison could feel his hands tremble as he walked back to his place among the elders and sat down, cross-legged. Slowly he lifted his head to address the others. They instantly grew silent. "My apologies," he said slowly in the Shawnee tongue. "My grave apologies for the interruption. Please, let us go on."

  Starlight, an old woman, and the leader of the village lifted a wrinkled palm. "Your apology is accepted, my son of my daughter." She looked out on the sea of bronze faces. "Let us turn our attention back to the problem at hand." Her silver white waist length braids swung as she spoke. "You have heard the evidence, my friends, my loved ones. You have heard the evidence, listened to the witnesses." She pointed to the scowling brave seated across the fire from her. "Piiske Kolheek has defended his actions."

  "Lies! They tell lies against me!" Kolheek growled.

  "Silence!" the old woman snapped. "I will not tell you again that if you cannot speak in turn, then you will not speak at all!" She looked back to the oval shaped circle of Shawnee council members both male and female, young and old. "What do you say, brothers and sisters? Speak now before the votes are cast and the wretched man's fate is sealed."

  The middle-aged nephew of Starlight lifted his hand. "This man thinks we have waited too long to hold this council. Kolheek has betrayed us all for the greed of power and white man's possessions. We agreed we would take no sides in this fight between the English and those who are English who call themselves Americans. Kolheek went against the council. He bought and sold the fire sticks called guns. He brought whiskey. He brought redcoated men to our camp. He brought hate and discontent."

  "It is true that he did disobey," said another man, thinking as he spoke. "But is that reason to cast him out? He is not the first among us to make a mistake. He is a young warrior. Young warriors often have poor judgment."

  A young woman with a baby in a sling rose up on her knees. She pointed her finger at Kolheek. "It is his fault my son has no father. He brought the attack upon our village that my husband gave his life in. Those men searched for Kolheek and his guns. I know it in my heart of hearts."

  Kolheek gave a snort "More lies. Laughing Heart and her family have always hated me! I cannot be held responsible for a band of white thieves who came through our village."

  Starlight shook her head. "They burned, they raped, they murdered, Kolheek. They also spoke your name. You heard the evidence."

  "And I again, repeat, the evidence is nothing but lies."

  Starlight turned to Harrison. "What say you, grandson of my heart? What words of defense do you have for the man who is your friend?"

  Harrison looked up at Kolheek. It was true, they had been friends. When Harrison had first returned to the Shawnee nine years ago, Kolheek had befriended him. They had hunted together, fished together, danced and laughed together. It was Kolheek who had taught him the way of the Shawnee. It was not until Rain-Of-Spring had come to the village that the friends had grown distant. "It is true Kolheek was a man I once called friend. But I can no longer say that is true. He has gone against this village's wishes again and again—"

  "Bastard!" Kolheek shouted in English.

  Starlight's eyes narrowed dangerously as she held up one finger signaling Kolheek to allow Harrison to continue.

  Kolheek sat back down in a huff.

  "But it is not these infractions that are so terrible," Harrison went on, choosing his words carefully, "as the fact that he has put all of us at risk by his dangerous games. Kolheek's greed has brought us pain and death." He looked at the people he now called his own. "I have thought long about this and prayed to God. We must send Kolheek away, my friends, else he will destroy us all."

  Kolheek leaped up from his place on the floor and lunged at Harrison. "Lying, betraying bastard! You were my friend! My friend! How can you do this to me?" He grabbed Harrison by a handful of leather tunic. "You don't know what you're saying! How can you condemn me?"

  Several braves jumped up at Starlight's command and grabbed Kolheek, wrestling him to the ground to subdue him.

  Starlight gave a wave of her hand. "Enough of your insolence," she shouted angrily. "Take yourself from this council." She pointed to the door. "We will reconvene tomorrow at sunset to give you our decision."

  "No! I'm not done! I've not been given time to defend myself!" Kolheek argued. The braves began to drag him toward the doorway. "This is unfair! I have a right to speak!"

  Kolheek was still ranting as the braves dragged him out of the longhouse and into the darkness.

  Slowly the other men and women began to rise. The council meeting was over and it was time to return to their families. There was little talking as they left the longhouse and made their way into the night.

  Harrison hung behind, trying to slow his pounding heart. He was greatly upset by Kolheek's behavior and the only solution which was surely coming, but now all he could think of was Leah. Why was she here? Why after all these years just when he thought the pain was gone had she come back to haunt him?

  Starlight reached out to touch Harrison's hand. "Son of my daughter, this old woman does not mean to pry," she used his strong forearm to lift herself to her feet, "but who is that white woman with the magic hair?"

  When Harrison did not answer immediately, she patted his arm. "It is she, then? I thought so."

  "I don't know what she wants. I'll send her away."

  Starlight gazed up at her grandson's face. She gave a little shrug. "She is here. Why not speak with her? It must be very important to her, a white woman, to have come across the Great Bay, through the forest to find you."

  "I have nothing to say to her."

  Starlight smiled. "Perhaps you think not, but let this woman who has seen many winters come and go tell you something. Wishemenetoo set our fate in the heaven long before we are born. You cannot say which path you will go, so you must keep all paths open to your moccasins and in your mind."

  "I want nothing to do with her, grandmother of mine," he said bitterly in Shawnee. "I loved her and she betrayed me. She betrayed our love. She sent her father after me. He nearly beat me to death."

  Starlight waved a wrinkled hand. "You were young, both of you. This woman thinks that if you were to now look at the situation with the eyes of the man you are now, you would see differently."

  He shook his head. "Excuse my insolence, but you're wrong." He took a deep breath. "I hate her."

  His grandmother walked away, chuckling. "Aye, this woman sees the hate in your eyes, but she sees the love as well." She stopped at the doorway and turned back to Harrison. She lifted her hand, her forefinger and middle finger intertwined. "Sometimes the best relationships come when the two are intertwined."

  Harrison watched the doorflap fall. Now he was alone, save for the firekeeper who was raking the coals on the center campfire.

  Harrison knew he had to go to Leah. The sooner he did, the sooner she'd be gone. He didn't care why she'd come. He didn't want to know. He just wanted her out of his village and out of his life. He'd worked too hard at forgetting her . . .

  Chapter Four

  Leah sat on a hide mat in Harrison's wigwam and reached out to warm her hands on the small fire that burned in the center of the dome house. She was cold to the bone.

  She glanced around, rubbing her hands together. The wigwam was small, perhaps eight feet in diameter. Baskets, hollowed gourds, and skin bags and some dried vegetables hung from the ceiling rafters. The wigwam was neat, but not overly so. It was obvious that no woman lived here. A pair of leather leggings lay abandoned in a puddle on the hide floor near the doorway. The sleeping platform was unmade, the woolen blankets and ani
mal hides piled carelessly as if Harrison had just crawled out of bed. A flintlock musket rested against the wall with a powder horn dangling from it. The wigwam smelled of pungent dried herbs, wood smoke, tobacco . . . and of Harrison.

  Leah lifted her head, listening carefully. The drums had stopped. First she heard a man shouting. Then she could detect the sound of the villagers moving about outside. She could hear their hushed voices as they returned to their homes.

  Harrison would be here soon.

  She drew her cloak around her shoulders, trembling. She didn't know what she had expected to feel the first time she saw him, but she'd been unprepared for the width and breadth of her emotions. She hadn't realized just how deeply her hate for him cut into her—or her love for him.

  He didn't look a day older to her than he had the last time she'd seen him. He'd been seventeen, she only sixteen. Harrison was taller now, his shoulders broader, his forearms more muscular. His hair, as black and shiny as a crow's wing, was much longer. He looked more mature, but God help her, he was even more attractive than she had remembered

  Self-consciously she touched her hand to her cheek. She knew she must look a sight. The journey from Tanner's Gift to the Indian village had been hard. She was dirty and tired. She knew how haggard she must look . . . and old.

  She sighed looking at the tiny wrinkles across the backs of her hands. Where had those last nine years gone? They had robbed her of her youth and of her youthful beauty. No, Edmund had . . .

  The deerhide door flap moved, startling Leah. Obviously she had to speak with Harrison, but she wasn't ready, not quite yet. If only she could have another minute or two to prepare herself, to rehearse one last time what she was going to say to him.

  He stepped inside and let the door fall behind him. He crossed his arms over his chest. "Why do you come here?"

  She blinked and looked away, concentrating on the distorted shadow of his menacing figure on the wigwam wall. He spoke in the Indian manner, his words delivered in an abrupt staccato manner—as if he didn't speak English very often. His father was right, this was not the young man she had loved. The Harrison she had known was soft spoken and kind. This man standing before her was a bitter, volatile savage.