The Blooded Ones

by Elizabeth Brown

  “Young Benjamin is coming toward us, Margaret. Be kind!” Alice warned.

  Maggie had also noticed the tall man striding toward them through the crowd. Instead of going toward the church as the groups dispersed through the town center were, he cut through others with a well-placed smile and nod of apology as he made way to them. His earnest grin was too infectious to miss, and she found she could not be too unkind to him. After all, he was Winn’s friend. Perhaps he would help her.

  “Good morning ladies! I pray ye will allow me to escort ye to church?”

  Maggie was not too affected by him to decline, but Alice squashed her refusal before it left her lips.

  “Why, of course, dear Benjamin! My niece takes kindly on your offer, but I will walk with my husband. I see he joins us,” Alice answered. Thomas Martin approached as well, and although the crowd parted for him, he did not garner the same glance of appreciation that Benjamin did.

  “Thank you, Mistress . I will take good care of Miss Margaret at your leave,” Benjamin promised. He waited a long moment with his elbow outstretched before Maggie would take it, and she was certain he would give up if she simply ignored him, but she was surprised to see he continued waiting through the awkward moment until she finally slipped her hand onto his arm. Her brows creased at the warmth of his grin and the way he placed his other hand over her fingers, as if to keep them from slipping away.

  “So, how do ye fare since yer return?” he asked when Alice and Thomas were out of earshot.

  “I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?” She bristled at his words, certain it was another display of distaste for her spending time with the Indians. She had heard enough of it from the whispers between Thomas and Alice.

  His skin flushed at her words, and his half-smile seemed strained at her response.

  “I just thought yer ordeal may have been quite distressing, with the accident. That is all I meant.”

  “I was not on that boat, and I’m not his niece,” she hissed. “You need to help me get away from these idiots!”

  “Ah, uh … quiet down,” he whispered, his eyes briefly darting around at passersby. “It’s not so simple! Thomas Martin swears you are his niece!”

  “I’m not!”

  “Then who exactly are ye?” he asked. His fingers tightened over hers as she moved to pull away, so she could not disengage herself without making a considerable scene.

  “I’m just – I’m just not his niece, that’s all,” she mumbled. There was nothing she could say to prove her identity. No driver’s license, no credit card, nothing of value to illustrate exactly whom she belonged to. As far the colonists were concerned, the word of a man was law, and she was most painfully aware that her word held as little meaning as that of the Indians.

  “Ye needn’t be afraid of Winn anymore, miss. Ye can tell me the truth of where ye come from. Ye need not return to the Indians.”

  She squinted up at him. She heard a tremor in his voice, only slight, but enough to cause an undercurrent of unease to wash over her, pinpricks of goose bumps rising up on her arms in response.

  “I thought you were his friend,” she said softly. His head dipped down toward her ear, and he slowed their pace by pulling back on her arm.

  “He is my friend! ‘Tis the only reason I did not put a bullet through his foolish whoreson head for this!” He raked a hand through his tousled hair, disrupting the binding enough so that scattered curls sprung free. She moved to step back, but he held her arm firm. “I thought more of him than this – that he would steal a good English woman and – and act on his base instincts! He asks too much for me to stand by with no action!”

  “He has done nothing wrong!”

  “Nothing wrong? Has he blinded yer eyes so much, then?”

  “No. It is nothing like that!” she snapped. “And if you are truly his friend, then you will help me go back to him.”

  “If you want my help, ye will tell me the truth of it. Tell me who are yer kin, and I will return you to them!”

  She snatched her arm away with a seething grunt.

  “I have no kin.”

  “Then ye’ll have to bear my questions until you recall them.”

  Alice and Thomas approached. Thomas cocked his head and his brows narrowed as he neared, his cheeks squashed like two purple plums over a pointed scowl. Benjamin notably changed his demeanor, switching gears seamlessly to more gentle conversation. Although his skin remained flushed from ears to throat, his voice was tempered with calmness when he spoke again.

  “Winn spoke of a wound ye suffered. I trust it heals well?”

  “Yes, it’s fine,” she sniped.

  He squinted a bit at her retort and resumed a pleasant smile. “Yer manner of speech is…different. I admit it intrigues me.”

  “I’m sure you’ve never heard my accent before,” she shot back.

  His skin flushed a bit more and his head ducked down as he smiled. He cleared his throat and patted her hand as if in distraction.

  “Ah, yes, then. I would like to ask ye a favor, Miss.”

  “Maggie. I think you know my name by now.”

  “Maggie, then. Would you like to ride with me after the service? I would take ye to visit some friends, I’m sure yer uncle would approve.”

  “That is a fine idea, Benjamin. She will join ye,” Thomas interrupted as he joined them. The older man smirked, nodding eagerly at them. “Ye plan to see Morgan White, I suppose?”

  Benjamin tilted his head in agreement.

  “I hope he has returned. His young son has been worried after him.”

  “Do ye know which savage he was consorting with? I can’t say I trust them as much as ye do,” Thomas said.

  “Pray he’s returned and we need not worry over it,” Benjamin replied. Her lips pursed shut when he pressed his hand over hers. She did not care for the way he continued to hold her as she attempted to pry her hand free, but decided her best bet was to play along. She let out a sigh and stopped her struggle and his mouth curled up into a grin.

  “It will be a short ride, my dear. Unless ye prefer to return home with yer aunt—”

  “No!” she said quickly, causing him to grin mischievously. He knew damn well she didn’t want to go back to the Martin house and she did not appreciate the manipulation.

  “Well, it’s settled then,” he murmured. She nodded.

  “I will meet ye there,” Thomas said. “I’ve business of my own with Morgan White. No better time to settle it.”

  “Does that please ye, Maggie?” Benjamin asked.

  She considered denying his request, but when she saw the hope in his eyes and the way he feared her rejection, she nodded in agreement. She would take him up on the offer, play on his lapse of judgment, and find a way back to Winn. It would be an easy way to get away from her fake family, and might provide her opportunity to make her escape.

  “Good! We will leave right away, as soon as the minister releases us.”

  The service was blissfully short, in part because the regular minister was absent and the job was taken on by volunteers. Maggie sat daydreaming beside Benjamin, relieved when the final hymn ended and they were able to leave the stuffy stone church. Alice and Thomas seemed content to leave her in Benjamin’s care, which she suspected was just another part of her captivity. She imagined they viewed him as a helpful accomplice to keep her in line, and although she still tried to decipher their rules of right and wrong, she failed miserably.

  It was no matter. She would ride out with Benjamin and make her escape, and the nightmare of being detained by the English would soon be nothing more than an unpleasant memory.

  CHAPTER 27

  Maggie sat stiffly beside Benjamin, who had been courteous but quiet the entire way as they rode in the wagon. He took her as scheduled to a neighboring plantation to meet his friend, Morgan White, trying to introduce her to other members of the community. Apparently, the widower White had contracted for a wife from England and they would marry later in the week. It
would be one of many weddings in Martin’s Hundred, thanks to the influx of eligible women sent over by the Virginia Company. Benjamin mentioned that many women had arrived on the same ship Maggie had supposedly traveled on.

  Mr. White, however, had been gone for longer than expected on a trading run with an Indian companion, so Benjamin was eager to see if the man had returned safely home in time for his wedding.

  He tilted his head and cracked the reins again to speed the horses, and pointed ahead to show her the plantation they approached.

  “Your uncle is here,” he commented. She expected as much from the earlier conversation, but Maggie was surprised to see the elder Martin had arrived before them. The yard was empty except for a lone horse tied to split rail fence, which looked to be the black mare Thomas rode that morning. Maggie wondered if she could get her hands on the horse.

  There was a pleasant small cabin at the heart of the settlement, and it seemed peculiar that there was no smoke coming from the chimney, especially considering the breeze in the air. A shiver of unease stole over her when she saw the empty barn door snapping back and forth in the wind, making a hollow thud each time it hit the barn wall. As they pulled up in the wagon, Uncle Thomas stalked out of the house, followed by a young boy of about four holding a round black felt hat and two young men, dressed in the gray homespun that most servants wore in the colony.

  “What happened here?” Benjamin asked, climbing down from the wagon. He offered his hand, and she gladly took it, curious to get a look around. The place looked near abandoned.

  “Young Morgan says his father left days ago with that savage Jack-of-a-Feather, and he has yet to return. Then this morning the Indian comes here wearing his pa’s hat,” Thomas said, clearly riled up.

  “He never returned?” Benjamin asked.

  “No,” Thomas answered, spitting out a slick of tobacco onto the ground. “Jack says he didna kill him, says he had an accident, but the evidence is damning. He’s wearing Old Morgan’s hat!”

  Maggie looked toward the barn and decided to take a better look while they talked. Young Morgan watched her walk toward the barn but he hung back with the men, clutching the hat in his tiny white fingers. His dusty face was littered with pale streaks where tears had washed off the grime. The tow-headed child was dry eyed now and silent in the presence of the adults.

  As she made her way closer across the packed clay, she could see two ponies tied to a post in the far side corral, one of which she immediately recognized. “Benjamin?” she called. “Who else is here?”

  “Maggie, stay with me!” Benjamin reached her side and grabbed her upper arm to stop her from the path. It was unlike him to snatch her so, but she took his advice and remained next to him as they stood outside the barn since the hair on the back of her neck was standing at attention.

  “The boys have the savages tied up in the barn. They said Jack-of-a-Feather rode in alone, and then the other one showed up,” Thomas said. He hoisted his rifle up to his shoulder and pointed it toward the barn in practice, then lowered it back to his side. “He must have killed Old Morgan. Jack won’t go willingly to the magistrate in Jamestown, and I do not know what to do with the other. Maybe ye can decide, Benjamin, since ye know the savage well. He’s from the village.”

  Maggie saw Thomas shoot her a glare, his lips twitching nervously as he looked toward the barn. She cared very little if they planned to execute Nemattanew after what he had done, but she wondered who the second brave that accompanied him on his misdeeds was. Bile burned hot in the back of her throat. She recognized the horse tied up, and she knew very well it was one from the Paspahegh village.

  “If Jack said it was an accident, we must treat him fairly, Thomas. We canna tie them up like animals,” Benjamin snapped, taking off for the barn. Thomas uttered a protest but followed him, and Maggie trailed behind.

  Benjamin was on his knee, untying the captive’s ankles when she made it to the door. Winn sat cross-legged on the ground, his head hanging limp, his wrists bound behind him to a post. Blood trickled from a swollen wound above his right ear where his hair was shaved flat to his skull in the half moon shape. Nemattanew sat beside him in a similar position, more alert, his eyes filled with fury as they approached.

  “Oh, God, Winn!” she cried.

  CHAPTER 28

  Her voice sounded like the melody of warm summer sunshine as she turned backwards on her horse to laugh at him. He loved to see her smile, and when she issued her teasing challenge to race, he gladly followed. She slapped her horse on the rump and took off, and he dug his heels in to urge his horse into pursuit. A splatter of wet sand kicked up around them, splattering the bellies of their mounts, but still she laughed, calling to him to follow. Her long scarlet locks streamed wild behind her, and he could hardly wait to catch her so he could hold her in his arms.

  “Winn!” she called out.

  He let her win the race, as he would give anything to see her smile, and slowed his mount as she stopped the race. Her pony swung around in a tight circle, and suddenly her eyes widened and her heart-shaped face crumpled, as if a shadow of fear had swallowed her.

  “What is it, ntehem?” he called.

  “Winn!” she screamed.

  He had tracked Nemattenew down hours before and followed him to a farm outside of town. The warrior was alone, and Winn was uncertain why he had circled back from town and then visited the farm. As Winn watched, Nemattanew arrived and argued with the English, and against his better judgment, Winn rode in to help him. Winn grimaced, knowing now the decision was a poor one, but at the time, needed to know what was going on if he had any hope of finding Maggie.

  The settlers claimed Jack of a Feather killed the Elder Morgan, and they wanted to bring the Indian to James City to face the magistrate. Winn stepped in to defend the accused, but when Winn tried to intercede, the servants immediately assumed the worst.

  Things escalated very quickly after that. The servants turned on them and held them at gunpoint, and the last thing Winn could recall was waking up bound to the post. He could only surmise that Nemattanew wanted to return to the farm to explain the white man’s disappearance, probably in order to keep relations calm with the English as all Powhatan were under order to do. Opechancanough had been planning his coordinated attack on the whites for several years, and success hinged on the ability of the Powhatans to gain the trust of the whites. The Weroance would not be pleased to hear Nemattanew had slaughtered an Englishman for no good reason. Every local tribe under Powhatan rule knew of the plan, and each tribe had a part in maintaining good relations with the whites.

  Nemattanew, however, was a loose cannon. The brave had a deep hate for the whites that often led him to rash acts, and the unfortunate Elder Morgan had been too trusting of the tricky Jack-of-a-Feather. Winn knew Nemattanew was losing favor with his uncle for his rash behavior, and his only regret was that it had come too late to prevent all the chaos involving Maggie. Given the choice, Winn would gladly end Nemattanew’s life, as he was sure Nemattanew would happily do the same for him.

  He woke to hands shaking his shoulders and several angry voices, but even before he opened his eyes he knew one voice belonged to Maggie. His transition back to consciousness returned in a rush, and suddenly the only thing he could think of was getting Maggie as far away from Nemattanew as possible. He tried to rise but the man pushed him back down with firm pressure on his shoulders. Benjamin. Winn shrugged off his hands and staggered to his feet as the stars clouding his vision began to fade, his hands still bound behind his back.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Benjamin yelled, directing his anger at the other Englishman. Winn’s right eye was swollen from the blow of a rifle butt, but he could still see Maggie as she pushed around Benjamin and pressed a cool cloth to his temple. He closed his eyes briefly to her touch, hoping the others did not notice how she wrapped her hands around his arm and pressed dangerously close to him. Winn saw a glimmer of wetness in her jade eyes and gently leaned into
her to help steady her shaking.

  “Thank you,” he said softly to comfort her. He kept his voice low as the Englishmen argued, more worried about getting Maggie to safety than what they might do to him.

  “Winn, what happened here?” Benjamin asked, reaching out to pull Maggie away.

  “Untie me,” Winn answered. His hands clenched into fists when he saw how Benjamin glanced at Thomas, then paused. Was Benjamin going to forsake him and leave him bound like a dog?

  Maggie moved forward, but Benjamin snatched her hand and pushed her behind him as if Winn was a danger to her. Winn would have laughed at the irony if he were not in such a precarious position. Thomas Martin had his rifle cocked at his waist, waiting with his little pebble eyes for any move Winn might make.

  “Thomas, take Maggie back to the house.”

  “No!” she shouted. Maggie shook off the hand that reached for her and tried to avoid Thomas, but Winn could only watch as the older man dragged her toward the house. He heard her utter a slew of oaths at Thomas as she went, and he closed his eyes against her words and prayed she would be safe until he could get to her.

  “Winn…please. Tell me what you have done,” Benjamin asked. He put his rifle down to lean against the wall, and he unsheathed the knife at his waist. Benjamin sliced through the bonds with one quick jab then stepped back a few paces. Winn flexed his hands as his wrists were released, then swiftly reached for his knife and spear that had been taken from him and lay at Benjamin’s feet. He tucked the knife in his corded belt and sheathed the spear in the carrying harness on his back, lowering his tight jaw as he gave his answer through gritted teeth.

  “Think what you will, friend. I killed no Englishman … today.”

  He would give no further answer to the accusations his friend posed. Fighting back his anger at Benjamin, at the English, at his uncle – in one swoop it all became clear, as if he had been living in a shadow of denial before this day.