Authors: Janet Cooper
"What about freedom?
Independence?" she insisted.
"Your daughter must be reading Samuel Adams' ravings," Luke said
.
"At least, I take a stand
." Sarah vigorously scrubbed the tabletop.
"I wish both sides would destroy each other," the Indian said, his tone quiet, but intense
.
Ignoring Luke, Benjamin glared at her
. "Our family will not become involved in this war. When peace comes, we will follow the precepts of the Society of Friends and again participate in government. Until that time, we are neutral." His words and expression brooked no argument.
Sarah
dug her nails into her fists with exasperation.
Turning to their guest, Benjamin asked, "Has thou not heard about the Continental Congress' Confiscation Law regarding trading with the home government?"
"Home government?" Sarah halted in her task, the question bubbling out of her mouth.
"Our legal government,
the British." Benjamin gave her a curious look. Obviously, he expected her to know the term.
She held the rag in one motionless hand and listened
.
"If I fail to sell our stock, the Americans will appropriate my horses and pay me with their worthless Continentals," the Indian said
.
Sensing someone watching her, she began wiping the table before turning her attention to the two men
. Benjamin appeared fully engrossed with their guest. Luke had angled his chair so that he could look at the innkeeper, yet kept Sarah in view.
"Be careful when thou departs
tomorrow," the older man told Luke. "Since the Brandywine battle, the countryside has been filled with soldiers."
Brandywine!
That allowed Sarah to place the year as 1777, now all she needed was the month. She scoured the tables with renewed energy, but at a much slower pace, unwilling to leave the room until she had learned all she could.
"Neither side favors neutrals
." She heard Benjamin say.
"Nor Indians," Luke added, completing the unfinished sentence
.
The tavern owner bobbed his head
. "Yet thou have an English surname."
"Only when I travel," he responded
.
Benjamin gave an understanding look
. "T'wasn't always so for thee or us. "
"Ha!" Luke scoffed
.
"William Penn," Benjamin retorted with abrupt heat that cut off any remark Luke might have made
. "paid the Lenni Lenape people for their land. And gave a fair price."
"Aye, but the Lenape expected the whites to keep the treaties and value the land
. Instead, the settlers kill the animals of the forest. Mills and dams interfere with the migration of the fish. Farm animals foul the water." He stared at Benjamin as if accusing him of during all these deeds.
Luke's face had hardened and
Sarah sensed his frustration. His shiny black eyes shone with hatred and flailed her with his allegation. Sarah wanted to protest her innocence; to tell him she and her people were changing. Before she spoke, she remembered the date. Any peace or respect for the Indians remained a far distant goal, not even totally achieved in her own era, she admitted, embarrassed at society's prejudice.
"What can you do?"
Sarah asked Luke.
Benjamin raised an eyebrow
.
Oops
, she thought, realizing her mistake. "What can
thou,"
she emphasized the word, "do?"
"Most of my people left this area almost for
ty years ago."
"Why did you, thy,
family stay?" she prodded. Remembering to use
thee,
thou
, and
thy
at the correct times would be trying. And why did Benjamin care what words she used? After all, he had been 'Read Out' at Meeting and could no longer attend? Still, Sarah decided now was not the time to ask.
Instead of answering, Luk
e looked from her to her father before focusing on the far wall. What thoughts raced through his mind? Would he deign to respond? She considered repeating her question, but didn't want to appear rude. Still, the idea tempted her. Her curiosity, from a historian's point of view and, she admitted, a personal one, made her seek an answer.
At last, he said, "A few of my people wished to remain on the land of our ancestors and near our sacred ground
."
She stared at him expectantly, willing him to say more, for he had further stirred her interest
, her compassion, her soul: these and more. She wished she understood the sensations Luke created within her, for she had never experienced anything similar before.
When Luke failed to speak again, Benjamin said, "Daughter, thou must be tired
. I will see to the fire. Get thee to bed."
Disappointment overwhelmed her
. If she left now, she might never discover why some of Luke's family had stayed. Benjamin and Luke probably planned to continue their conversation once she had left. The idea miffed her, leaving her feeling left out. She was not a child to be sent to bed so the adults could talk, and she prepared to tell Benjamin so. However, when she glanced at him, his expression brooked no disagreement. She realized a frontal attack might not succeed. Thinking fast, she chose a different tack. "The floor must still be swept."
"Thou may do that in the morning
." He pointed to the door, leading to the private parlor.
Her plan had failed
. Without being blatantly disrespectful to the older man, Sarah saw no way to continue the argument. Lifting the bucket, she walked to the front window, opened it, and threw the dirty water outside.
"What art thou doing?"
The shock in Benjamin's voice caused her to whirl around. He looked astonished, while Luke appeared amused. Neither expression pleased her. Covering her mistake, although she had no idea what she had done wrong, she replied, "Watering the herb garden?" She glanced outside, but the darkness prevented her from seeing if any plants grew along the walkway.
He shook his head, as if with disbelief
.
Then she remembered
. With the difficulty of fetching and carrying, a colonial woman would have saved and reused the water the next day. Glancing at the dirt still clinging to the side and bottom of the bucket made her shudder. Even the museum hadn't been that authentic.
After closing the window,
Sarah peeked at their guest. The curve of his lips revealed his obvious amusement. She blushed, something she always did when disconcerted or embarrassed. "Good night," she said.
"Sleep well," Benjamin said, coming to her side and kissing her cheek
.
After his gruff words and manner, his gesture surprised yet pleased her
.
Luke nodded his goodbye
.
She walked toward the parlor,
reluctantly. Upon reaching the door, she glanced back. Luke's jet black eyes caught and held her gaze. She ached to learn more about him, to question him about his people, and to understand the political and cultural differences. To spend a whole night with this man would be fantastic. As if he understood her thoughts, or at least the last part, he raised his eyebrows. Since Sarah would never see him again, she winked at Luke. Benjamin, fortunately, had not seen her for her action would have scandalized the proper Quaker gentleman.
Luke raised an eyebrow
. The ends of his lips turned up, very slightly.
She grinned
.
His expression never changed
.
"Would thou care for a pipe of tobacco?" Benjamin asked, breaking the invisible bond she and Luke had fused
. The innkeeper pulled an earthenware canister from the shelf.
Not caring about Luke's answer to the question,
Sarah headed toward the steps and her bedroom. She wanted to savor and remember Luke's last look--forever.
CHAPTER TWO
Before dawn the next morning, Luke Keenan took leave of the Dilworthtown Inn and headed northwest. As he rode, he shook off the facade of the trader and rejoiced in being Silver Wolf, the Lenape. He took a deep breath, enjoying the fresh, pure air. The smell reminded him of Sarah. Wolf had enjoyed watching and quietly heckling her. She had prevented his evening from lapsing into boredom. Several times last night, her amber eyes had flashed with anger and spirit. He remembered her bold wink with amusement. Although she dressed like a Quaker, her appraising manner and frank speech contrasted sharply with Wolf's notion of a tranquil member of the Society of Friends. Even her chestnut hair had refused to obey, sneaking out from beneath her cap.
He
grinned as he recalled her eyeing him with interest and inspecting his body carefully. Her frank appraisal aroused him and surprised him. Most women of her class viewed him and his people with as much pleasure as a coiled rattlesnake. Her meticulous evaluation reminded him of an Indian woman instead of a white. Unlike the English, his people saw no harm in appraising the human figure. Evidently, Sarah thought the same way. A chuckle slipped out. This morning, she would probably receive a scolding for her less than demure behavior.
He had sensed her empathy when he mentioned the whites fouling the land and pushing his people off their property
, but such emotions seldom lasted in whites. Their sympathy turned to pity, then dislike, then hatred. The idea of Sarah following this path filled Wolf with revulsion.
Despite his attraction for her, the idea of becoming involved with a female from a race that despised and destroyed his own filled him with self-loathing
. Her culture wished to crush his. This fact had forced Wolf to adjust his way-of-life, but he would never change it. The plantation belonged to his family. His English great-grandfather had paid for the land, purchasing it from the Lenape. He laughed at the irony of the situation. Other members of his tribe had also set aside areas for themselves. Usually, this effort failed, for the colonists encouraged…nay, often forced the Lenape off their land. Many of his people had moved west, but how long before the whites chased them from the land beyond the mountains? Wolf would not chance leaving. He and his small group must stay and protect their way-of-life from the foreign invasion. To have a relationship, one based on trust and mutual acceptance, if not total understanding, with any white person was impossible. Jeremiah Low's image came to mind, followed swiftly by the image of his dead wife. Angrily, Wolf dismissed the vision.
His
paternal grandfather had married and taken his English wife's name to help safeguard their home; Wolf would make similar sacrifices if necessary. One he would not make was marrying a white woman and further diluting his Lenape blood.
When he returned, he would visit the
pimoa'kun
and sweat the stink of the whites from his skin. Relaxing in the hot, moist heat would cleanse his body and his soul.
As he approached
his home, Long Meadow Plantation, a pillar of dark gray smoke succeeded quickly by the acrid stench of charred meat struck his nostrils. Not the essence of game drying over a smoke fire, nor the aroma of cooking, but another far more fearful smell. Fear clenched his gut. Pulling his bow from the case, he slid it over his head, securing the shaft against the quiver of arrows that hung securely between his shoulder blades. He had smelled a similar aroma, when he and his grandfather had visited an Indian village near the Pocono Mountains. Now, the vision returned, complete with the garish colors. He saw again the broken bodies of old women and babies; the remains of partially burnt flesh, and the total devastation of the defenseless community. For a child of seven, the memory never faded.
He spurred his horse forward
. Low branches that infringed on the dirt path threatened to unseat him. With a growl, he leaned over the mane flying and striking in his face.
Let it not be so. Not here at his home.
He prayed aloud to God. "
Kitanito'wet
, please. Let them be safe."
Wolf burst into the clearing
. Reining in, he stared. "No!" he howled. Scouring the area, he saw no one. His stomach knotted. Where was his family? Where were the tenant farmers? Wolf's gaze raked the barren yard. What had happened to his son? His father? His grandfather? Horror gripped his heart and twisted its icy finger.
Again, he searched the yard
. The stone walls of the barn stood, but wooden doors, shuttered windows, and cedar roof were gone. From inside the empty hull, grey-black smoke trailed into the sky. Several overturned leather buckets lay discarded around the yard. Of human or animal, he saw none. Off to the side, his house and that of his overseer stood unscathed. He offered a quick prayer of thanks. Farther back, near the first clump of trees, the tenants' cabins were untouched. The total destruction of the barn contrasted sharply with the other untouched buildings.
Wolf gritted his teeth
. With difficulty, he controlled the howls of despair. Raiders had attacked and destroyed what his family and his people had worked so hard to achieve. All his plans and efforts to guard his people had failed. He had failed! If he had returned last night, might he have prevented the assault? Guilt filled him. He should have pushed to return. Instead, he had dallied with a white woman while his people lay under the sword. He had rested in a comfortable bed, while his people fought for their land…his land. Shame assaulted his soul.