Authors: Janet Cooper
Shaking his head, he took the needle a
nd asked, "Now, may I stitch?" His voice showed his annoyance, but he took no effort to hide his feelings.
She nodded
.
As the needle punched the first hole, Daniel cried out again
.
Sarah
gasped.
How can he push the needle into Daniel's flesh without flinching
? She stared at the boy with pity
. If only they had something to dull the pain.
"
Sarah. "
She twisted her head and looked at Wolf
.
"Hold his head, firmly
." Wolf glanced at Benjamin. "Grasp his legs tightly."
Taking her position behind Daniel's head,
Sarah crooned softly to the lad, "Everything will be fine." She repeated similar words while Wolf sewed. Her voice appeared to calm Daniel, for he stopped twitching. His reaction pleased her.
When Wolf finished, he placed the moss over the wound and wrapped a bandage around the boy's head
. After dipping his hands in the water bucket, he dried them on his buckskin shirt.
Ugh
, she thought, as she watched him.
At least, he is finished stitching and won't contaminate the wound.
"What shall we do now?" she asked, staring at Daniel
.
"Let him sleep
. He will be fine." Wolf rose. "What happened?"
Sarah
pulled up a quilt and tucked both sides in. She was not sure how or what to tell Wolf. "Let us go downstairs. I need a cup of tea." She craved caffeine, but would settle for sassafras tea. At least, it would be hot, and the warmth might chase the chills that invaded her body.
"I will round up the animals," Benjamin said
.
"May I help thee, father?"
Sarah asked, although she was unsure if her legs could bear her weight while she completed her tasks.
"Thank thee, daughter, but no
. Thee should sit and rest."
"May I?" Wolf questioned
.
Benjamin shook his head
. "It will only take me a few minutes. Besides, I need to check our supplies and the barn for damage."
Wolf's jaw tightened at the word "barn," obviously remembering the destruction at Long Meadow and the death of his father
. Sarah empathized with his hurt and wished she had the strength to help him. However, right now she could scarcely hold herself erect.
She moved slowly, clutching the railing that twisted around the curved steps leading to the first floor
. With the danger over, weakness struck her body. Still, she resolved to control her trembling. The last thing Sarah wanted was for Wolf to perceive her as helpless. He had questioned her inability to stitch Daniel, and she could not explain why. She must control her body.
As she lifted the kettle from the trivet, her hand shook
. Wolf placed his fingers over hers. He replaced the iron pot. "Sit. I'll do this.”
The touch of his hand warmed her
. Gratefully, she released her hold and sat down hard on the bench. A calliope of mixed emotions flowed through her as the memories of the morning's events raced around her brain. Shivers did sprints up and down her arms and legs as her mind replayed the earlier scene. She must drive these thoughts away.
Sarah
focused her attention on Wolf, watching him intently. He appeared so confident in the kitchen. This facet jarred with the strong, Alpha male image she had created. He placed a warm, ceramic, handleless cup between her palms and allowed his hands to hold hers for an extra moment. Energy seemed to course from him to her. She drank in his strength. "Thank thee."
Wolf settled next to her
. His gaze locked on her as she slowly sipped the hot, healing brew. Instead of making her uncomfortable, his stare made her feel cared for, comfortable, relaxed.
"What happened?" he asked gently
.
Focusing her attention on the half-empty cup, she began
. When she mentioned the corporal storming into the tavern, Wolf tensed. Unwilling to allow her terror to build again, Sarah attempted to joke, "When he eyed me like a thick, juicy steak, I clanged him with a pewter mug."
"What?" Wolf exclaimed
. Admiration showed in his tone.
"I hit him on his head and raced out the door," she said proudly
.
"What happened to 'turn the other cheek'?" he inquired
.
Deliberately misunderstanding him, she said, "I did not wish to see his 'other cheek'
."
A small smile sparkled in his eyes
. "And…"
She continued, finally saying, "If only the pitchfork had metal prongs
."
"That from a Quaker?" he asked, his astonishment showed
.
Since she could not tell him she was not a Friend, she said, "Anger made me forget
."
He eyed her curiously
.
"I cannot thank thee enough
. If thou had not come …" All the horror and panic suppressed returned with full force. A tear trailed down her cheek.
Wolf reached out as if preparing to wipe the moisture
. She forestalled him by dashing the tear away with the heel of her palm. "I will not cry."
"Revenge will help heal what the soldiers did," he said in a cold, brittle manner
.
His statement and his voice drove home their differences
. Although Sarah prayed the soldiers would be stopped and punished, vengeance meant "an eye for an eye" to Wolf. No trial, no jury, just one life exchanged for another. She could never agree with him, neither as a modern woman nor an 18th Century woman who was brought up as a Friend. For her father's sake, she should repudiate what he had said, yet, inwardly she acknowledged she wished to be avenged. Reluctantly, she replied, "Revenge is contrary to my father's beliefs."
"And
your
beliefs?" he challenged her, perhaps hearing her lack of conviction.
She blushed
. "My father raised me to follow the principles of the Society of Friends. I oppose violence."
"How do you explain poking the soldier with a pitchfork?" he asked
.
Clearing her throat, she said, "That was different
."
"Oh?"
"Yes," she said, defensively.
"How?"
Getting up, she walked toward the front window. Her conscience nagged her. Had she imagined the desire she saw in the corporal's eyes? Was she condemning an innocent man? Had he only wanted a kiss? She shuttered at giving even this to the redcoat. Then, she recalled his gesture and his actions toward her. No, she had not mistaken him. He would have raped her. "I will allow no man to take what I do not give freely," she said, strongly.
She placed the cup on the wide sill and looked at the large oak that shaded the near side of the barn
. Suddenly, she recalled young Joshua's words. A man had been hanged from that tree. What year had that happened? What was his name?
Might it have been the raunchy corporal?
Wolf spun
Sarah around. "What have you not told me? What did he do?" His eyes bore into her. They seemed to will her to confide in him.
"Nothing
." She flinched and turned her head to the side.
Wolf grasped her chin, forcing her to look at him
. "What did he want?"
She raised her eyes
. Staring directly into his, she said softly, "Me…"
His gut wrenched
. She looked so vulnerable, so alone. Slowly, he lowered his head and touched her lips with his. She opened her mouth and welcomed him. His tongue circled the inside of her lips, and she moved closer. He courted her with his lips then drank of her nectar. She filled him with a desire to probe deeper, to increase their physical connection. With great difficulty, he broke the contact.
He looked at her
. Passion permeated her eyes. "You must be careful. You robbed him of his goal. The corporal will not be content until he takes what you prevented him from having."
Wolf felt the shivers race up her arms
. He remembered Quick Rabbit and spoke on, for Sarah must recognize her danger. "Such men always return."
And I might not be here to protect you.
His last thought renewed the agony in his soul for he wanted Sarah, yet he could never have her. Slowly, he released her.
To his ears, her rushed words held little conviction
. He guessed she had spoken them to calm his rage.
"I never saw his face," Wolf said
. He did not add that after having shot the arrows, his attention had centered solely on Sarah, just as it did now. "Tell me what he looked like."
As she described the soldier, Wolf ground his teeth
. His whole system tensed then filled with revulsion at what might have happened and at his own failure. Wolf's occupation with Sarah and his concern for her feelings had caused him to forget a cardinal rule of a warrior, never shift focus from your opponent until he is vanquished. Murderous thoughts crowded out all Wolf's logic and control. Images of suitable punishment, ranging from mere scalping to flaying the flesh off the British soldier's entire body flowed through his head. His fury must have shown, for Sarah flinched.
"I will kill him," he
said in a flat, monotone voice that masked but in no way dampened the fire burning within him.
"He fled," she said in a rush
. "He will not come back."
"I
should
have killed him," he repeated.
"For me?" She stared at him in disbelief
.
"For you and for another
for your description matches that of the man who raided our plantation." Wolf looked at Sarah, as he recalled Quick Rabbit, a once vital woman now an empty shell. The idea of that happening to Sarah filled him with dark dread. He wanted to crush her to his chest and assure her that he would keep her safe, but he knew such protection would be only temporary. Only by ridding the county of Cornwallis' patrol could Wolf guarantee that. "Either that soldier or one of his patrol raped a woman who lives in our village."
"My lord!"
Sarah cried. "No wonder thou art enraged."
She placed her hand on Wolf's buckskin shirt
. Her touch warmed him and increased the intensity of his desire and concern for her.
"How is she?"
Sarah asked.
"She sits beside her house refusing to see or talk to anyone
." The image haunted him. Gradually, the facial features he saw changed. He pictured Sarah in the same position, staring, but not seeing. The vision nearly drove him crazy. Wolf grabbed Sarah to him.
Slipping her arms around his waist, she returned his squeeze with vigor
. "I was so fortunate. Thank thee for being here." She raised her head and stared deeply into his eyes.
He brought his lips down upon hers, yearning to chase the terrible memories from her mind
. Fiercely, he covered her mouth with his. She opened hers to him. Eagerly, he accepted her offer. His tongue traced the softness inside her lips, then the tips of her teeth. She reached out to welcome him, intertwining her tongue with his. Sliding his hands down her spine, he heard her cry out softly, but her mouth never left his. He massaged her back and teased her with kisses that Sarah accepted and returned pleased him.
Her hand slid up his chest and encircled his neck
. Gently, she fingered his bare scalp and drew him even closer. She shifted her weight. As she pressed her breasts to his chest, his desire flared. Her forwardness gladdened his heart, for he had never expected such passion in a white woman. They stood molded together.
When he released her lips, he whispered, "I want you
." He moved his lower body to reinforce his request.
She grinned and duplicated his action
.
Wolf chuckled at her boldness. Once
again she reminded him of a Lenape woman, not a proper Quaker lady.
Grasping the sides of his face, she stared into his eyes and slowly licked her lips
. Her sensual action and the yearning he saw in her eyes heated his blood to the boiling point.
Outside the door, a wooden step creaked
. Benjamin! Wolf knew Quaker women of her class saved their virginity for their wedding night. He sat her away from him, feeling an overwhelming need to protect her reputation. No white man would think Sarah respectable if there were rumors she had been with an Indian. Wolf remembered tales of his grandmother being shunned by the whites after her marriage. His grandfather had often stated that Emily's rejection by her own people might have shortened her life. To have an affair with Sarah, a Quaker, would make her an outcast. Wolf could never expose Sarah to such harsh and inhuman treatment.
Besides, no Lenape warrior took a virgin unless he planned to be responsible for her
. Knowing he could never pledge himself to any white woman, he fought his craving for Sarah. He must reject this longing and follow his traditions, for they were the fabric and strength of his life.