Blackbird (9 page)

Adahya followed her gaze.  “I am a member of the False Face Society.”

“What’s that?”

“I cannot explain it to you, for it is sacred and must be hidden to non-members.”

“Why is the face turned inward?”

“It is respectful to turn the Face when it is not being worn.”

As with most of the customs of his people, Katherine did not understand.  Adahya had such a strong sense of what was honorable and deserving of respect, yet he had dragged her to his home by force and commanded that she stay with him.  He made about as much sense as everything else that had gone wrong in her life.

“Do you dislike all children?”

Katherine shot him a glance.  He was smirking at her in that teasing way, but she refused to be nice to him.  He tried to hold the poultice to her eye for her, but she pulled away.

“Why do you not trust me?”

Fear and rage knotted inside her.  “Hmm…let’s see.  You tell me you’re taking me to Fort Ontario, and that was a lie.”

“I was taking you.”  He looked indignant.  “At first.”

“You ask me to live with you, and when I refuse, you kidnap me.”

“I have not kidnapped you.  I told you that.”

Rage blinded her, and she wanted to slap his smug arrogance right off his face.  The lying bastard!  He tied her up and forced her here like a dog.  Then sat here and acted like he had done nothing wrong.

She clenched her teeth and felt a tiny pulse in her temple.  “I won’t stay, you know.”  She leaned toward him and pointed her finger in his face.  “No--I tell you what, Joshua will come find me, and when he does, you will be sorry!”

At that, Adahya laughed.

“He will.”  She glared at him.  “And when he finds me, he will kill you.”

It was Adahya’s turn to lean forward.  He captured her eyes with his and held her there.  They were defiant and black, and they reminded her of Joshua’s sermon about the sinner’s descent into hell.

“I will tell you what your savior will do.”  His voice was hard, commanding.  “If he finds you--which he will not because your Robert will tell him you have gone to Fort Ontario--but if he did, he would not live to see the dawn.  Your dear, beloved Reverend would die a slow, torturous death by the hands of my people.  You are Adahya’s woman now, and I will do everything in my power to keep you with me.”

Katherine stared at him, and as a long silence passed between them, her hopes slowly sank into a pit of despair.  He was right.  Joshua had no idea where she was, and a part of her wondered if he would bother to look for her at all.  Was this her fate; the same fate from God that Joshua spoke of in his sermons?  Did God hate her that much?  Surely God was not that cruel.  He would not leave her here.

Joshua.  She might never see him again.

As if he sensed her dejection, Adahya cupped her chin in his hand.  “Adahya lost his first woman against his will.  He will not lose another.”

Katherine pulled away from his touch.  She wanted to run, but she knew she would not even make it to the door before he stopped her.  Confusion and desperation battled within her, but she was too exhausted to do anything about it.

Her valise containing Joshua’s documents was leaning against the far wall of the lodge.  She had thought it been left in the woods when Adahya bound her wrists.  Relief washed over her.  Those documents were the last remains of her old life.  Of Joshua.  Rising to her knees, she pulled the valise toward her and clutched it to her bosom like a life net to her fading existence.

As if sensing her need to be alone, Adahya got up and began adjusting the smoke hole in the roof.  She watched him stoke the fire, working the coals to a steady glow.  His movements were slow, deliberate, as if he were purposely giving her time to be alone with her thoughts.

He hung a copper kettle on a hook suspended over the fire.  “Do you like tea?”

“You have tea?  Real tea?”

“Real tea.”

Katherine edged toward him, her dark mood momentarily lifted.  She had not had tea since Mama died.  The beverage had been a scarce commodity ever since the country’s supply had been dumped into Boston Harbor and the port closed last year.

He found two pewter mugs from beneath a pile of iron traps and fishing baskets and set them in front of her.  From a tree gourd, he poured a glob of some sort of sticky substance in each cup.

“Watda.”  He watched her cautiously.  “Sugar syrup from the maple.”

Next, he added a pinch of ground powder to each cup.  “Sassafras root for flavor.”

When the water had boiled, he poured the liquid into each cup.  He passed her a pewter spoon to stir the concoction.  “It is not the white man’s tea, but it is real tea just the same.”

He watched her sip the drink before he tasted his own.

“It does taste like tea.”  She took another sip.  “Not quite the same, but it tastes wonderful.”

He seemed pleased.  “Are you hungry?”

Katherine nodded, suddenly realizing that she was starving.  Adahya rummaged through his supplies.  He hung a kettle of water over the fire and began throwing things into the pot, naming off each vegetable and meat in his native language.  It was as if he was trying to teach her the Mohawk dialect.  She mentally committed each item to memory, deciding it would be beneficial to her to learn all she could about these people in order to escape from them.

“Onogweda.”  He dropped six white roots into the pot.  “Cattail root.”

“You eat them?”

He nodded.  “They are very difficult to obtain, so you must savor them.  Onogweda is the food source of the muskrat.  Muskrat has powerful orenda.  When he is robbed of his possessions, he becomes very angry, and this is not good.  Muskrat’s orenda is strong, and he may use it to do terrible things to whoever stirs his wrath.”

Katherine drained her mug and set it at her feet.  She stared at him as he went on with his tale.

“If he catches the thief, he may cast a spell upon him.  Disease or even death may come to the thief or to his loved ones.  Misfortune is a common curse.”  He winked at her, his expression bearing a hint of amusement.  “Look how he cursed me into bringing a white woman to my door.”

Katherine looked away.  His idea of a joke was not funny.  She was his prisoner, and he was trying to ruin her life.  She found nothing funny in her situation.  When he served her some soup, she ate in silence and tried her best to ignore him.  He spoke to her of how he had built his lodge and of the weather, but she remained silent, refusing to carry a conversation.

When they had finished, Adahya slid a basket toward her.  “This is yours to keep, as is its contents.”

Without word, she cautiously removed the birch bark lid and pulled out a dress made of tanned hide.  The sleeves and hem were decorated with red-dyed quillwork.

“From my brother’s wife.”

Remembering her incident with the child and the enraged mother, Katherine put down the dress.

“It is from Star, Zachariah’s wife.  She was not the one who fought with you this morning.  That was Sunshine, Two Guns’ wife.”

“You have a large family,” she commented.  And she particularly disliked one of them.

She went back to the basket, finding a pair of moccasins.  They were beaded with intricate floral designs.  “Also from Star?”

Adahya nodded.

Katherine ran her hands over the beadwork.  Such detailed craft would bring a fine price in Albany.  “She does beautiful work.  Truly.”

Next, she found a bone-carved comb and immediately went to work on her tangled hair.  She knew he was watching her, for she could feel the weight of his stare.  Never in her life had she been so unkempt.

After she had combed her hair out straight and free of snarls, she went back to the basket.  The final item inside was a knife.

She slowly pulled the small weapon from its floral-beaded sheath.  The handle was decorated with carvings of tiny people.  The blade was small, but it looked sharp.  She smiled.  This was the one gift which would aid in her escape.

“If you do anything to lose my trust, I will have no choice but to treat you as my prisoner.”  He raised his voice, anger beginning to rise.  “I gave you the knife to do your daily tasks, as I expect of you as my woman.”

She put down the knife.  “What else will you expect of me?”

“I expect the same from you that every man expects of his woman.”

Panic gripped her.  Katherine stared at him, acutely aware of his presence alone with her.  He would expect her to share a bed with him.  And if she fought him there would be no one to save her.  She had spent many nights alone with him in the forest, but that was different.  Now he considered her his property.

What little information she knew of the sexual act between man and woman filled her thoughts.  He would claim his rights to her.  She recalled what he had asked before, if she had been Joshua’s lover.  Adahya thought her an experienced woman.  His hard exterior implied he would take her furiously and roughly.  He would not be gentle and sweet as she dreamed her first would be.  Perhaps he would even try to hurt her down there; a punishment for loving Joshua.

She swallowed.  If he tried to rape her, she would fight him.  And if she could not stop him, she would endure it and survive.  God would lead her from this hell as He had led the Israelites out of Egypt.  She would stay strong and escape.  She would survive.

* * *

ADAHYA stared at her.  Her eyes were wild and frightened like a caged animal’s.  He did not want this.  He wanted her to come to him of her own free will.  He wondered if she had shared Knox’s bed.  At times, her innocence told him she had not.  But when she displayed her forwardness, he had no clue.

He had noticed the look of genuine pleasure when she took his father’s knife.  To her, it was not a treasured heirloom but a weapon.  He mentally pictured her thrusting it into his throat as he slept.  He had been foolish to believe the thought would not cross her mind.  Her trust would not be immediate.  It would take time and much patience.

Her gray eyes were wide, clouded with worry.  “You’re going to want to--with me--aren’t you?”

“Yes.”  He was not going to lie to her.  He had wanted her since the day she had taught him her skill of kissing, and lately the thought of being with her was an all consuming fire that he could not stop thinking about.

Her bottom lip began to tremble.  “When?”

“When you are ready.”

“I’m not ready.”

“I know.”

Cautiously, as a man approaches a cornered wild animal, he touched her hand.  When she did not pull back, he intertwined his fingers with hers and held them until she stopped shaking.  She did not try to run, nor did she try to drive the knife in his heart.

It was a start.

CHAPTER TEN

REVERAND Joshua Knox slowed his gelding to a trot.  He had been riding hard for two days now, and in his panic had not given thought to the consequences of going back to Albany.

What would the bishop think of him if he turned tail and ran home?  He had trained with Reverend Wheellock for two years to prepare for his work with the Oneidas.  To run back now would make everything moot.  The life he had chosen was not an easy route.  No Christian life was.

And what of God?  Surely Christ himself had been scared when faced with crucifixion.  But He had not run away.  And what about all his work for the Colonial cause?  Did he just expect to throw that away?  And what of Kate?

Poor, sweet, innocent Kate.  His heart filled with grief to think how she must have suffered at the hands of the savages.  He knew he had deeply hurt her himself, that he had often hurt her.  He had led her on by bringing her to the mission.  He loved her as a friend.  There was nothing wrong with her outspokenness.  It was what made Kate truly unique.  But he was not the man for her, and he regretted ever allowing her to believe so.  It had only been the sheer isolation out here that had made him kiss her.

If he returned to Albany, he would have to face Kate’s father.  He would have to tell him that she had died at the hands of the most cruel, blood-lusting races on the face of the earth.  Her father would blame him.  Blame him and hate him forever.  Kate.  She did not deserve such a cruel death.

With a hard thrust of the reins, he reared his horse around and headed back to the mission.  In the name of his Lord and Savior, and Kate’s memory, he would return to the mission and to his work for God and for the Colonial cause.  He owed Kate that much, at least.