The Legend of the Bloodstone (15 page)

“This is not your time, it is mine,” he answered, with no trace of harsh intent. “Women do not challenge their men.
I would kill a man for less than what you have done to shame me.”

“I’m not your woman.”

“I found you. You belong to me.”

“
This is useless! I just want to go home. Why is that so hard for you to get through your thick head?”

He tilted his head a bit and grinned when he realized the meaning of her insult.

“Why do you not understand I cannot let you leave?”

“Because I
can’t just give up. If you were me, wouldn’t you do the same?”

Neither offered an answer. She filled the silence by slopping her wet dress against a rock to rub it clean. He sat down a few feet away on the riverbank and watched her.

“Yes,” he said softly.  “I would do the same.”

She looked up at him.  His eyes were soft blue orbs as he watched her, briefly lingering befo
re he lowered his head, his braid falling over one bronze shoulder.

“What fills your day, in your time?”

She startled at the earnest question, and dared a glance his way. He sat cross-legged in the grass, leaning forward on his knees. His eyes followed her movements without a semblance of threat. She felt her skin prickle in a warm rush and quickly turned back to her work.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“I would hear it.”

“If I tell you, will you stop pestering me?”

He considered her offer, and agreed with a curt nod.

“I will go back to the village,” he promised.

“Fine! I went to college during the day, and then I came home. I took care of my grandfather. I looked after the farm-I kept it running pretty well.”

“You lived with only your grandfather?”

“Yes. Well, no. We rented our cottage to a man named Marcus. He was like family.”

“Like a husband?”

“No, you jerk! Like family! He looked out for me. He was a
gentleman
!”

He scowled and changed his tactics. Maggie was stunned when he tossed a pebble at her, hitting her backside. The gesture seemed playful, and com
pletely out of line.

“What is college?
” he asked. She picked up a sizeable stone and considered launching it at him, but let it drop, annoyed as two more pebbles struck her thigh in quick succession.

“A place people go to learn. We sit in rooms and listen to other people who teach,” she snapped.

He joined her at the creek and took one of her garments from the basket, which he began scrubbing against the stones next to her. She scowled but said nothing.

“What you told me of your time… my people. Is nothing left of us, nothing at all?”

She stopped squeezing water from her dress, and glanced sideways at him. His furrowed brow sheltered his eyes as he continued to work on the garment in his hand.

“Winn … I shouldn’t have
told you – “

“I asked you. I wanted to know.”

She slipped her fingers over his hand, the urge to comfort him as strong as the reflex of taking another breath, wishing she could take away the anguish shadowed in his eyes. How could she comfort such a man? A man she watched rise to her defense against a bear, not knowing who she was, only that she needed saving.  A man who acted in the moment, who took the life of another warrior that threatened her, without hesitation or question. 

How could she
console him, when it was her own words that caused him such misery?

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. His calloused thumb moved against her hand,
then squeezed it, only a gentle motion, but enough for her to hear the words he left unspoken. She did not want to move, afraid to shatter the tenuous strings binding them in the moment, unwilling to lose any ground when they worked so hard for every inch of the strange peace between them.

She saw him swallow as he abruptly pulled his hand away and stood up.

Chetan walked toward them on the path, chuckling at the site of them washing clothes together.  His son followed behind, also bearing a curious grin, but too respectful to laugh at Winn as his father did. Chetan obviously had no such compulsion, holding a fist against his lower belly as he goaded Winn.

“Will you wash my clothes as well, brother?”

Winn pursed his lips for a moment, then one corner of his mouth crested into a grin.

“No, you are not quite as pretty, you can wash your own clothes,” Winn shot back.  He tossed the dress he had wrung out into the basket, and playfully snatched the one Maggie was working on.

“I’m not done with that!” she said, trying to take the basket back.  Much to her annoyance, he dodged her attempt, dropping her basket to playfully deflect her blows. If she did not clean what few clothes she had, she would have nothing presentable to wear to the feast, and she was bone tired of feeling like the beggar visitor.

“Yes, we are done here,”
he argued, laughing.

Frustrated beyond measure, she swung around back to the
creek bed and her laundry.

“I answered yo
ur questions, now you can leave,” she hissed.

“As you wish!” he
grinned. She had no sooner bent back to her task when he swept her up over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, slapping his palm against her buttocks when she kicked out.

“You liar!” she screeched, furious a
t being treated yet again like a piece of property.

“I said I would go back to the village. I did not say you could stay here.”

She reached out to strike him, but when her fist hit his back he slapped her bottom again, this time with more authority. She realized they had reached the village, and that people stared open mouthed at the warrior carrying the crazed flame haired woman. She remembered his warning about defiance in front of the villagers and clamped her mouth shut. When he finally entered the wigwam and dropped her to her feet, she stalked off to the corner and sat with her back to him.

“I won’t stay here! I have things to do!”

“You will stay here until I say you may leave. If you leave again I will tie you. Do you understand?”

“Don’t threaten me.”

“Then behave!” he bellowed. He kicked a fur closer to the fire and thrust out his hand toward it. “Sit,” he demanded. She hesitated long enough to see the spike of rage cross his face, then decided it would be wise to heed his request. Slowly lowering herself down to sit on the fur, she met his furious gaze without yield.

“
Opechancanough sends his advisor to see how our people fare,” he began. Maggie let him speak without interruption, her curiosity sparked when he spoke of his family. She knew little about him other than what little she gleaned from his sister and mother, which was next to nothing. They would not hear of her desire to leave, and placated her with assurances that Winn would keep her safe- as if that was a consolation!

“My Uncle has much hate for the white
settlers, and he wishes to make them go back across the great sea to their own land.  He grows tired of their demands and would see every white man dead.” His jaw hardened as he continued, and a shadow of disgust fell over his face. “I serve him as council to the whites. I speak their English, and I eat at their tables. I learn their ways, so I can see their lies to my people.”

“So that’s why you speak English so well,” she murmured. He nodded.

“My Uncle sent word of his plans to rid us of the English. It will happen soon. He wants my help, as I have always given him.” He paused and looked away for a moment, then shifted his eyes back to her. “Nemattanew has heard whispers in the village…he knows you are a Time Walker.”

“
Nemattanew?” she stammered. “I don’t understand-“

“Listen, woman!
Nemattanew will tell my Uncle a Time Walker is here. Opechancanough will demand your death…and it must be done.”

Her teeth slid over her bottom lip and squeezed as she felt a wave of nausea surge up her throat. She leaned forward to fight the urge and slowly felt it wane.

“You can just let me go.”

“He will hunt you.” She grimaced at the words unsaid.
If Winn did not kill her, his Uncle would.

“You won’t kill me,” she whispered.

He stared at her across the flames of the fire. “I should end your life. I should kill you and feel no regret,” he said softly in return. Her spine stiffened at his quiet admission.

“Then do it,” she taunted, regretting the foolish words the moment they left her lips.

“Perhaps I will. If I smother your breath while you sleep, will I still see you in my dreams?”   He rose from his spot and bent down in a crouch in front of her. She began to tremble at the luminous darkness in his eyes, his body tensed and ready to strike.  “Perhaps I will cut your throat, as you tried to cut mine. Will I still want to touch you when your blood is on my hands? Or will it chase your ghost from my thoughts?”

He held his palms out and considered them for a moment, shaking his head.

“I think not, my
Tentay teh.
I think still you would haunt me.” She closed her eyes as he reached for her and felt his fingers take a strand of her hair. She felt his breath close and dared not open her eyes for fear of losing the last shreds of willpower she had left. Her heart hammered so loud she was sure he could hear it thump in her chest.

He slowly rose to his feet and put distance between them.  He parted the hide covering the doorway and paused, his back turned and his face shrouded from her questioning gaze.

“You will join the women for the feast tonight. You worked hard to prepare it.”

She found no power to answer him before he left.

Part Two

A Future in the Past

Chapter
10

Although the remnants of their conversation left her reeling, Maggie went along with Teyas to take the evening meal.  Teyas graciously provided another garment for Maggie to wear, since all that she had was still wet from washing. The women sat apart from the men, seated in a group by the large fire burning in the village center outside the long house, the steady hollow beat of drums echoing through the air and the smoke of their pipes wafting into swirls above their heads. She was glad to be among them, but still frustrated by her slow grasp of their language. Teyas did not seem to notice, giving her a smile now and then as she chatted with the other women. 

Dusk settled over the treetops, casting a magical hue on the festivities as
near naked children raced through the crowd, shrieking and laughing in their games. They took turns performing cartwheels, competing to see who could do the most without stopping. Their antics shadowed the behavior of youngsters in a schoolyard, and the bitter reminder of her home brought on the sting of sadness. She would not break down in front of the women. Most of them viewed her with suspicion, and she would not have them see her as a weak simpering fool.

She wished they would hurry on w
ith the meal so she could escape to the yehakin and work on plotting how she would return to her own time. If she could only find out where Winn hid the Bloodstone, she knew she would be one step closer to going home. Of course, she had no idea how to make the time travel magic work, but there was no chance of ever figuring it out without it.

Winn
was seated across the fire with the other warriors, looking more relaxed than he had earlier. She watched as he took a puff from a long handled pipe and then passed it to the man beside him who did the same. His eyes looked sleepy as he laughed, with pink tinges of bloodshot around the edges, and Maggie wondered just what exactly was in the wild tobacco blend they smoked. Apparently, it was a luxury only the men enjoyed, not that she wished to partake, but it still intrigued her that women were not allowed the same pleasures. As she watched the men enjoy the smoke, he lifted his head and their eyes met across the fire.  Her stomach lurched and somersaulted when he smiled despite the anger she still harbored for him, and it was all she could do to look away when a crimson blush crept across her cheeks.