Time Walkers 2 Book Bundle: The Legend of the Bloodstone, Return of the Pale Feather (Time Walkers 1-2) (20 page)

C
hapter 24

M
aggie 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 damming. 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.  The boys 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.”

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 his 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.

C
hapter 25

H
er 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 thought of 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 own knife still tucked in his corded belt, 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. 

He deserved to be a suspect, because he was guilty.  No matter how much he felt friendship for Benjamin, despite the trust between them, Winn had deceived him all along with full intent to
lead an attack upon the English. He had grown up believing that following the orders of his Weroance somehow made it honorable, but now, as he stared into the blue eyes of his oldest friend, he could not deny that he was about to take everything from the man.

Winn avoided his stare and bent to cut Nemattanew loose.  He would have liked to leave him there to face the English justice but knew he could not.

“We go,” he said, directing the order to Nemattanew, who Winn feared would want to retaliate.  It would only bring down the rage of Opechancanough on them all if he allowed that to happen.  For once, Nemattanew offered no protest.  Winn took it as a sign that he knew he was beaten for now. 

“I can’t let you do that, Winn. Winn!” Benjamin yelled.

“Shoot me if you must, brother,” Winn replied. He stepped out of the barn and scanned the courtyard for Maggie. “Where is the woman?”

“She is safe. You must tell me—”

Winn ignored his plea and stalked off toward the house. He would not make the mistake of leaving her again, no matter how many English he had to kill. Nemattanew mounted up, watching him. She stood grappling with the two servant boys, looking the victor of the group in her fury, her thick fiery hair streaming out behind her and her eyes alight with heathen rage.

“Unhand my wife,” he said simply.  He reached for the spear slung over his back, and both boys immediately retreated. He left the weapon sheathed and held out his hand to Maggie.  Her chest heaved from her struggle, and he could hardly wait to feel her in his arms again.

“Knihelel!”
Nemattanew screamed, swinging his horse wildly in circles as he cried out, lifting his fist back toward the Englishmen and screaming his promise to end them all.

Winn turned to the warrior, but before he could issue a command, Nemattanew was thrown back off his horse.  The echo of the rifle came afterward, and in the melee that followed, Thomas Martin shot off another round.

“No!” Maggie screamed.

He felt the shot before he heard it, again the sound trailing behind through the space of the open meadow. He hit the ground, the warm sticky sensation of his own blood running over his chest, the wound pulsing even as he tried to stop it with his hand.  He sat up but fell back down, his left arm burning as if shards of glass filled the bone. He let it take him for only a moment, knowing he could not give in before he made her safe.

“Stay down! Do not move!” Benjamin ordered from somewhere above him. The voice trailed off in an echo, the sound of his heartbeat thudding louder through his ears as he winced up at the blinding sunlight. He wondered if perhaps time travel felt the same, and if Maggie had suffered when she came through to him. He would ask her that later, when they lay by his fire beneath warm furs, when he held her naked body against his and whispered a song to lure her into sleep.

“Is he dead?” another voice asked.

“No…but the wound is bad,” Benjamin answered.

Winn felt his chest squeezed as Benjamin placed pressure to the wound.  His eyes slid open into slits to look at his friend.

“Keep her safe, Benjamin,” he said, his voice strained from forming the words.

“Maggie – you mean Maggie?” Benjamin replied hoarsely. Winn grimaced when Benjamin pushed down harder on the wound, and he felt the warmth of his own blood as it ebbed down his ribs. He could smell its iron scent and knew that too much of it had left his veins. 

“She is…my wife. Let no man harm her…brother.”

Winn closed his eyes.

“Catch me if you can, warrior!” she laughed.

So she would make a game of it, and he would chase her. Her long auburn hair streamed behind her as she ran laughing down the beach, the wet sand sticking to her skin.  Her footsteps marked her trail like breadcrumbs across the sand, and he followed it.

Should it take forever, he would find her again.