Time Walkers 2 Book Bundle: The Legend of the Bloodstone, Return of the Pale Feather (Time Walkers 1-2) (55 page)

Rebecca

Rebecca spread her cloak on the grass and her bible beside it. It had been a gift from Makedewa back when she first arrived, spoils she assumed he had taken from the ruins of Martin’s Hundred.  She still recalled the devastation of that day to the place she once lived with her English family, the entire town left in a burned out ruin and most of its inhabitants annihilated. A few days after the Massacre, when she had still been in some sort of haze, Makedewa had brought her a sack of gifts.  She cried when she saw the items and he quickly left, so she never did properly thank him for his kindness. She wondered if he would ever try to speak to her again after their last encounter. What man would want such a damaged woman as a wife?

“Why do you walk out alone?”

Rebecca looked up, feeling foolish. Too entranced in her thoughts, she had not even heard Teyas approach.

“Only for some time with my own thoughts. The village is too busy today,” she replied with a smile. Rebecca patted the cloak beside her. “Will ye sit with me? I would like your company.”

Teyas squinted up at the afternoon sun, raising her hand to shield her eyes against the glare. Her hair was unbound, long and straight down her narrow back, which was a change from the two black braids she usually wore. She was dressed in a peculiar manner as well, with delicately beaded moccasins and a fresh white doeskin dress. Rebecca had never seen her so dressed before.  The garb reminded her of the fine ceremonial attire Winn sometimes wore when he traveled to Jamestown on his duties for his uncle.

“I have little time before I must go. I came to bid you goodbye,” Teyas said softly as she sat down beside her. Her friend’s head was bowed and her eyes hidden under her thick downcast lashes.

“Goodbye? What do ye mean? Maggie said we might stay here, if Winn wishes it so,” Rebecca stammered. Teyas placed a hand over hers.

“No, my friend. Only I must leave. My mother and father have arranged my marriage.  My brothers will take me to Mattanock today.”

“But no man has courted ye!”

“He will court me, when we meet. We will have a few days, I think, before I am a wife,” she said.

“Is it always so, for the Indians?” Rebecca asked. “I mean, for you to marry a man you do not know?”

Teyas squeezed her hand, her lips curled up in a smile.

“Sometimes. I hear he is a brave warrior, and he gave many gifts to my mother for this match. I could refuse his pledge, but it would cause my mother shame.”

“Oh, Teyas! I don’t want ye to go!” Rebecca whispered fiercely, throwing her arms around her friend. They rocked together in a tight embrace, and soon she felt her friend’s tears dampen her own cheek.

“Stop it, stop! I am happy to be a wife,” she insisted. They drew away from each other, hands entwined in their laps. Teyas patted her hands, as if soothing herself, then wiped the tears from her cheeks. “You will be a good wife as well. I am sure my new husband will allow me to return for your wedding to my brother. I will see you again.”

Rebecca swallowed back a sob in the midst of trying to stem her tears. She twisted her fingers together in her lap, clutching a handful of her wool skirt.

“Nay, there will be no wedding for me. I will never be a wife to your brother. I am sure he no longer wants to marry me, after our last parting,” she said.

“Rebecca,” Teyas said, her voice trembling. “You have a man who wishes to hold your heart. Do not turn him away. I fear you will regret it someday.”

Rebecca looked up into her friend’s soft brown eyes. Tears glistened on her cheeks, but she was beautiful even so. Rebecca was sure Teyas would make a fine wife. She was strong, confident, and everything a man could desire in a spouse.

Rebecca would regret making Makedewa unhappy more than anything, but she could not admit that to his sister. Teyas pulled her to her feet, and they walked back to the village together.

“Someday, you will see the moon through the trees,” Teyas murmured, tucking her arm through Rebecca’s. Rebecca hugged her, wishing there was some way to make time stand still.

Winn

Winn did not expect her to be in their Long House when he returned, yet she was. His wife and child napped on the sleeping platform, Kwetii curled up against Maggie’s breast with one little fist bunched in her red hair, the sounds of their breathing a gentle snore echoing within the confines of the walls. He felt a tug deep in his chest as he watched them, the two he loved most in the world. As he sat down gently next to them, he wondered if Maggie would wake still angry or if she could see reason.

Reason? Perhaps not. It was not the first time they argued over her place at his side, and he knew it would not be the last. He usually liked to hear stories of how she lived in the future, but when it came to her expectations of what a wife was to a man, he had no patience for it. He heard her words and understood her meaning, yet she expected more of him than just listening. She wanted what she knew marriage to be in the future, but she wanted it with him, in their time. With all they had been through, at least that should be witness to why her desire could not be met, but nothing swayed her. Always defiant, never submissive, he had no desire to smother her fire. He only wished to find some impasse, a way to let her smolder without damage.

This time, however, was different. He still had a duty to his tribe, and he owed Pepamhu his respect. Winn would deliver Teyas as requested, no matter how much he would miss his sister and despite how he wished there was another way. Once he settled Teyas in the village, he would ride onto Jamestown to finish his business
with the English. There he would meet the Indian translator, Joseph Benning, and escort him safely to his uncle’s village.  Maggie did not know yet that this exchange would mean the end of his service to his uncle, nor that Winn had cultivated it for months. Although it would ease her mind to know his duty to his uncle would soon be satisfied, Winn held that fact close until he could resolve the rest of their issues.

If Maggie knew his ties to the Powhatan Weroance were severed, she would expect them to settle in the Norse village. Yet that was a decision he was not prepared to make. Between her knowledge of future events, and the prediction Marcus made of Maggie’s death, he knew not what path to take. He could only continue to take the risk of their future safety, and that of his family, on his shoulders alone. Seeing his wife bear such responsibility would be intolerable.

Kwetii let out a sweet sigh as he brushed her hair back off her cheek. He felt Maggie stir. Her jade eyes opened, round and swollen from her tears as she stared up at him, and he felt a pang in his belly at the knowledge of her distress.

How he wished he could take her fear away. If only he could banish the uncertainty, give her a foothold, perhaps she would lower her defenses and accept her place beside him.

“Hey,” she said.

“I thought you would be with Teyas.”

“You told me to stay here,” she whispered.

He lowered his eyes as he sighed, nodding.

“Yes. I did,” he agreed. She sat up, shifting her weight so as not to disturb Kwetii. As he realized that she had spent the last few hours alone in their Long House instead of with Teyas, he bit back a harsh retort. Yes, she was stubborn, but he had ordered her to stay. For once, despite her bluster, she had obeyed him.

“Come,” he said gruffly, standing up from the pallet. “Say goodbye to my sister, bring Kwetii.”

He did not wait for her to follow, the hot frustration streaking through him. Knowing he was leaving his wife when things lay unsettled made him bristle.  It was difficult enough to honor his duty and take his sister back to the village with the certainty he might never see Teyas again. It was another matter entirely to leave Maggie with whispers of anger between them. He could see the hurt in her eyes, and he knew she did not understand why she must remain behind.

Winn stalked out to the courtyard, where the horses stood ready. Two horses would remain with Teyas, one for her to ride, the other to carry her belongings and to serve as a gift to Pepamhu. Makedewa and Chetan were already mounted, with Ahi Kekeleksu astride his pony beside them.  He heard Maggie’s footsteps behind him, but he did not look at her as he checked the straps on his mount.

Maggie and Teyas spoke quietly to each other, and Teyas took Kwetii into her arms. The women seemed resolved to the situation, and although he knew how much it pained his wife, he saw the way Maggie channeled her strength to show Teyas a brave face. With a tearful smile and a few stolen kisses, Teyas mounted her pony.

Winn swung up as well. Maggie stood back from the horses, her eyes rimmed pink but dry. Still sleepy, Kwetii rested on her mother’s hip, seeming blissfully unaware that her Aunt and Father meant to leave. It was unusual for the toddler to let him go silently, but in light of the events of the day he imagined it was better for them all.

His breath hitched when he looked down at Maggie. Her lips parted slightly, then closed, and he could see her jaw tremble as she met his gaze.

“Before the sun sets on the second day, I will return,
ntehem
,” he said, his voice low, meant for only her ears. “This is the last task I carry out for my uncle. When I return to you, my service to him is over.”

She stared hard at him for a long moment.

“Be safe, warrior,” she finally whispered.

He nodded. His throat was dry, his mouth too tight to speak. He could only acknowledge her with the simple gesture before he turned his horse away.

Those eyes haunted him, as always, seeing through the barrier that shielded his heart. Yes, she was still angry, but simmering beneath that jaded emotion, he could see her fear. When he returned, they would speak on it, find some way to bend the rigid barricade between them before it drove them further apart.

He heard only soft muffled sobs from Teyas as they rode away, yet it was his wife’s image that clouded his visions instead.

Maggie

Maggie watched the men work on a new frame house adjacent to the Northern Hall. It was built in the English style with two stories and a narrow staircase up the middle, sticking up like an ugly cousin among the litter of thatched-roof Long Houses in the village.  Benjamin worked to oversee the construction, and although he labored alongside the men, he clearly directed the efforts. It was easy to convince Marcus a two-story house would be the best use of their limited space in the secluded area, so when the growth of their community demanded it, he approved the work.

Maggie and Rebecca remained in the village to tend the meal-fire, while Gwen joined the others gathering honey. After Kwetii’s brush with the bee sting Maggie was still on edge, and although she hoped it was an isolated incident, she was unwilling to risk it by going back to the fields.

The grazing season was nearing end, so the men had driven the herd of cows into a narrow pass above the valley.  There they selected which to slaughter, and which to feed throughout the winter. Maggie and Rebecca spent the morning scraping the hides and storing the fat, while the children played nearby.  Maggie could see Rebecca found the chore distasteful, but the younger woman carried on with little complaint.  She had been even less talkative than usual since Makedewa left with Winn.

“Will they return soon?” Rebecca asked. Maggie tightened the hide over her knee and scraped away in a sweeping motion with her blade.

“Winn said only two days. Maybe tomorrow we will see them,” she assured the younger woman.  Rebecca looked wistfully out toward the construction, pausing in her scraping with a hide sprawled over her lap.

“Do ye think he will find a bride there, as well?” Rebecca asked softly.  Maggie cocked her head sideways at her, stunned at the question. Although it was clear from both their behaviors that Rebecca and Makedewa missed each other, Rebecca had never verbalized it before. Maggie wondered what had prompted her inquiry.

“No, I don’t think so. I think he means to return to you quickly,” she replied. Rebecca blushed and lowered her head, resuming her scraping with renewed intensity. Maggie smiled.

“Perhaps he should stay. He could find a wife very easily,” she mumbled.

“Why would you say that?”

“No matter.”

Maggie sighed in frustration. She noticed Cormaic and Benjamin had stopped working, and Cormaic leaned on a spade, looking in their direction. He stared at Rebecca across the courtyard as she continued scraping. Both men propped their tools against the new wood frame and started walking toward them.

“Great,” Maggie muttered as the men approached. Cormaic had a mischievous grin on his face, and although Benjamin appeared much less amused, he was still smiling. Both were covered with dust and grime, their skin smeared with the sweat of their labor.  Cormaic reached for the bucket of fresh cider Maggie had brought out for the men, but Rebecca jumped to her feet and rationed it out to the men before Maggie could offer it.

“Thank ye, my lady,” Cormaic murmured, his green eyes focused on Rebecca. Maggie saw her skin flush from ears to nape, and although she quickly sat back down and ducked her head to her work, she was clearly unsettled by the exchange.

“It looks good so far,” Maggie said, trying to break the silence.

“Aye. It’ll do fine. I expect the women will like it,” Benjamin agreed.  Maggie filled a cup and handed it to Benjamin, who took it with a graceful nod. Maggie kept her eye on her cousin, who openly stared at Rebecca as if he had never seen her before.

“Cormaic?” Maggie said.

“Hmm? What, cousin?”

“The house looks quite fine, I said,” Maggie retorted. She stuck out her foot and stomped on his toe. Cormaic muttered a curse as his attention was drawn away from Rebecca, and Maggie smirked.  He kicked a pile of dust her way in a playful manner, and before she knew it the game was on.

“Aye, ye thorny hellcat, it that what ye are about?” he grinned. The last word came out sounding like
aboot
, and Maggie burst into laughter as she rolled a thin strip of deer hide up and snapped it at him like a bath towel.

“Go on, get out of here! Don’t you have work to do?” she admonished him. He roared when she smacked him with the hide, ducked his head, and grabbed her around the waist.

“I think my cousin needs a dunking! What say ye, Benjamin?” Cormaic laughed, picking Maggie up off her feet. He swung around as if he meant to dump her in the village well and Maggie punched him in the ribs, eliciting a grunt but no release.

“Aye, I think so,” Rebecca piped up. Maggie glared at her.

“Traitor!” Maggie shot back at Rebecca. The younger girl held her lips closed in a tight line, clearly trying to keep from laughing.

“Come on now, enough,” Benjamin interrupted. When Benjamin took her arm and pulled her away from Cormaic, she tried to shrug him off. Benjamin would not be swayed, however, until they had stopped their petty game.

“Ah, let her loose! I fear no simple woman!” Cormaic taunted her. Incensed at hearing Rebecca giggle behind her, Maggie kicked out at her loud-mouthed cousin, causing Benjamin to join the laughter as well.

“Ye should fear this one, she has quite a temper,” Benjamin grinned. “She’d let a lad bleed out before she offered a hand to save ye. Mark my word,” he said with a twinkle in his soft eyes. Maggie elbowed Benjamin hard in the ribs, and he released her.  She stood glaring at the two men in mock defiance as she rubbed her wrist.

“I see no work done here.”

They all stopped laughing when Marcus approached, his face stern and not the least bit amused at the antics. Rebecca made a whispered excuse about returning to the Long House, and both Cormaic and Benjamin straightened up as Marcus reached them. Maggie crossed her arms over her chest as she waited for his criticism.  It seemed Marcus had turned into some high-handed stranger since they settled in the village, and she did not care for it at all.

Cormaic took a swig of cider as his eyes followed Rebecca. Benjamin dipped his cup for a refill and turned his attention to Marcus.

“Leave the women be, ye have plenty of work to do before nightfall,” Marcus said.

“Aye, just having a drink, no harm,” Cormaic said. Maggie shot him a scowl. If his intent was to impress Rebecca, he had come away looking like a playful fool, and she was glad of it. Rebecca had enough to think about without Cormaic vying for her attention.

Marcus stared hard at Benjamin, who met his gaze with measured return. Maggie sighed and sat back down to her work as Cormaic walked back to the frame-house. Marcus appeared annoyed as he sat down beside her, taking the cup from her hand and pouring himself some cider.

“Well? How’s it coming?” Marcus asked, directing his inquiry at Benjamin, who stood in front of them. Benjamin drained his drink and then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. At that moment she was struck by the resemblance, and she wondered how she had not realized it long ago. With his dark curling hair plastered along his neck, and round slate eyes staring at her, Benjamin was the image of his father.

“It goes well. It will be finished in two
days time, if the weather holds. Gwen thinks a storm is brewing, so we shall see,” Benjamin answered.

“Good. I expect we will need the space when yer brother returns. Go on, get on with it then, son.”

Benjamin nodded, and she saw the muscles of his throat contract as he looked down at the dirt.

“Aye, well, enjoy yer drink. I’ll see ye at the meal,” Benjamin murmured.

Maggie took the cup Benjamin held out. The corner of his mouth lifted in a grim smile, and then he turned and left. She heard Marcus let out a deep breath beside her as they watched him leave.

“Ye seem to be getting on all right,” Marcus commented. Maggie was taken aback at the implied accusation in his tone.

She dipped her own cup into the cider bucket and took a drink, ignoring his prompt. She did not want to discuss Benjamin with him.

“He
dinna trouble ye, did he, Maggie?” Marcus commented.

She looked sideways at him as she drank.

“No. It’s okay. He means no harm,” she replied tersely.

“Sure, he means none.”

“Spit it out. What do you want to know?” she asked, seeing through his fumbling attempts at conversation. It had been a long time since they spoke as friends, and she was certain his inquisition was more than just concern.

“I just worry, that’s all. I have two sons, more than I ever had to lose in my life. And you, and Kwetii— I want ye all here, with me. But I think it might be too much to ask of ye.”

“Why do you say that?” she said softly. Suddenly, as his shoulders sagged and his forehead creased over his thick brows, he looked like the old Marcus again. She felt a pang of regret over her rash anger.

“Can you stay here, with yer husband’s brother looking at ye like that?”

They both glanced across the yard at Benjamin, who was using a hatchet to split a log. As if on cue, he looked over at them, and when he saw Maggie he flashed a smile before he bent back down to work.

“He said he would be no trouble. He promised me that,” she said.

“Well, then, if he promised,” Marcus said, his words trailing off with unspoken doubt.

If she did not forgive Benjamin, how could she expect Winn to do so? Surely it was the only tangible way to move on, for all of them. Yet discussing her feelings for her former husband was too much to share with even Marcus, so she turned the topic to one they could be in agreement on.

“How is Finola today?” she asked, intent on changing the course of their conversation. She knew he had visited his mother several times since the older woman’s arrival, yet Finola had not spoken a word to him.

“Gwen is convinced she’s trapped in her visions. She must see something dreadful, the way she sits there.” He sighed. “I fear she will never be sane again. In our future time, she’d be locked away,
fer sure.”

“She might come through. We can’t give up on her,” Maggie said quietly. She placed a hand on his arm, and he covered it with his own briefly before he stood to his feet.

She intended to reassure him, but the pounding of hooves invaded the village. Astride a horse much too large for his boyish frame was a tow-headed youth, who galloped the horse into the courtyard where he came sliding to stop as the animal buried his haunches in the dirt. The boy looked younger than Ahi Kekeleksu, no more than six or seven, but he handled the massive animal with surprising grace considering his diminutive stature.  Dressed in linen trousers and a vested tunic, he was clearly English, and despite the lack of risk associated with his presence, she saw several of the men reach for their weapons.

Although Marcus growled a warning for her to stay put, she followed him anyway. What harm could the boy bring, no matter what people he hailed from?

“Are ye lost, lad?” Marcus asked. The boy shifted in the saddle, his eyes darting around the camp as his fingers gripped the reins. The whites of his knuckles gleamed like little white pearls across his fists.

“I’m looking for kin of the savage Winkeohkwet,” the boy said. His horse pranced nervously in a circle, but he kept his eyes sharp on Marcus.

“Who asks?” Marcus replied. Marcus took hold of the horse’s rein to steady the beast, who snorted at the action, but calmed.

“I’m Morgan White, ward of John Jackson. He sent me with a message, but I will only give it to yer leader. Would that be
ye, sir?” the boy said as he thrust his chin out in an insolent manner.

“I am. Get down, and tell me yer message,” Marcus answered evenly.

Cormaic came forward unbidden, and pulled the lad down off the horse. Marcus handed the horse’s reins to another man, and she saw Benjamin bend down to inspect the youth.

“I know ye. Yer were friend to my father,” the boy said.

Benjamin put a hand on Morgan’s shoulder with a nod. It was then that Maggie recognized the boy. The memory of that terrible day rushed back to her. It was the day Winn was shot by Thomas Martin, setting into motion events that had changed all their lives.

Yes, Maggie remembered that day, and by the hollow look on Benjamin’s face, she was certain he recalled it as well.