Twin Willows: A Novel (19 page)

W
ACCACHALLA

Otter reached his village late in the afternoon, when most of the people were gathered around their lodges before the evening meal. Long before he saw anyone, the aroma of roasting meat wafted out to greet him. Anna smelled it, too, and realized that she hadn’t eaten in a very long time. She hoped that Otter would at last allow her food and drink. He stopped on the edge of the village and dismounted, then lifted her from the horse. His gestures explained that he was going to remove her gag, but she must remain quiet.

When he looked at her questioningly, Anna nodded that she understood.
I don’t know who he thinks I’d talk to or what I would say
, she thought. Unless someone in the village spoke better English than she did Shawnee, it wouldn’t matter what she said—no one would understand her.

Anna gestured that she wanted her hands untied, but Otter shook his head and gave her a push on the shoulder to make her start walking. Along with her fear, Anna also felt a certain amount of anticipation. Despite the unfortunate circumstances that had brought her there, her lifelong desire to see an Indian village was about to be realized.

She didn’t have much time to observe, however. As soon as the first villager spotted them, she and Otter became the center of attention. A large group thronged close to them—it seemed to Anna that it must be every man, woman, and child in the place. The women chattered in animated excitement, and many called her “Willow,” as Otter had. With his hand on her shoulder he continued to nudge her forward, as he waved away the crowd. He was silent, although Anna thought he looked very much as if he wanted to make a speech. The crowd began to step back, giving them room to proceed.

Soon Anna realized that they were heading toward the largest building in the village, which she guessed belonged to the chief.
I will soon find out what is to be done with me
. Her throat suddenly felt dry.

Anna had tried to remain calm as her captor had led her through the woods, so as not to rile him, and to think of any means of escape. Now that she was truly a captive in an Indian village, the full terror of her situation hit her. Would she be tortured and killed? Would she be held captive, or married to this man, or another Indian warrior? Would she ever see her father again—or Stuart? Her heart lurched at this last thought, but she did not allow herself to cry. She was determined to maintain her dignity, despite her desperate circumstances.

The lodge was a shaky-looking building with a wooden frame, partially covered with skins. Otter stopped at the entrance and said something to the others that caused them to turn away in obvious disappointment.

Otter must be fairly important
, Anna thought, and as she stepped into the dim, smoky interior, she straightened her spine and tried to keep a calm expression on her face. She hoped to make as good an impression as possible.

Otter bowed to an older man who sat in a chair that appeared to have been carved in one piece from a single huge tree trunk. The man stared at Anna for a long moment before he gestured to her to come forward.

“Black Snake,” Otter said.

Anna didn’t know what she was supposed to do, so she merely stood before the chief. Miss Martin hadn’t instructed her charges in the proper etiquette of being an Indian captive.
Stuart’s aunt would swoon dead away if she could see me now
. The ludicrous thought momentarily lifted Anna’s spirits.

Black Snake addressed her in the same guttural language that Otter had used. Again, the only word she understood was “Willow.” When she made no response to him, the chief looked bewildered. He turned to Otter, and the two spoke at length. Anna presumed that her captor was telling the chief how he had caught her, probably also making himself appear brave and heroic.

Finally the chief stood and approached Anna. He put out his hand and touched her hair, then he fingered the material of her skirt.

I must look terrible
, Anna thought. The dress that she had put on that morning had been torn in several places during her escape attempt. The briers that had ripped her dress had also scratched her face and arms. She had long since lost her bonnet, and her uncombed hair fell into her face. With her hands tied behind her, Anna was powerless to brush it back.

The chief’s silent inspection continued for a few moments before he beckoned to a young girl Anna hadn’t noticed before, who appeared to be twelve or thirteen. He spoke to her briefly, and she nodded and left the lodge.

Black Snake resumed his seat and spoke sharply to Otter. From his tone, Anna guessed that the chief was upbraiding him.
Because he brought me here?
she wondered.

Otter pointed to Anna, to himself and Black Snake, then back to her as he seemed to defend himself from some charge. When he finished, Otter folded his arms across his chest and stood with his head slightly inclined, as if waiting for the chief to make some sort of decision.

The girl Black Snake had sent out returned, carefully holding a plain doeskin shift over her outstretched arms. She handed it to the chief, who with great ceremony stepped down from his chair and held it out, seemingly as an offering to Anna.

Anna found her situation so ludicrous that she almost laughed. She gathered that the chief meant for to accept the robe, but how could she, with her hands still tied?

Quickly Otter realized the situation and unbound Anna. She rubbed her chafed wrists, then attempted to extend her arms to take the robe from Chief Black Snake. But her cramped muscles trembled from the slight exertion. She lacked the strength to hold even such a light burden.

Black Snake said something else Otter didn’t seem to like, then he handed the robe back to the young girl who had brought it. From his gestures, Anna guessed he meant she should take Anna with her and leave.

The chief’s fierce scowl immediately quieted Otter. Chastened, he could only stand and watch the young girl take Anna’s hand and lead her from the lodge.

Anna felt an overwhelming sense of relief to be away from her captor. From the way the chief looked at him, Anna doubted that bringing her there had earned him any reward.

Maybe the chief will just let me go back home
, she thought. The prospect, however unlikely, gave Anna at least some glimmer of hope.

Many of the villagers had remained near the lodge, waiting to see what would happen when Black Snake met this girl who could be Willow. When they saw her leave the lodge accompanied by his daughter, Blossom, and gifted with a doeskin robe, they looked at one another in wonder.

“How comes this Willow back, alone and in a
Shemanese
dress?” one asked.

“That girl looks something like Willow, but she is not,” another said.

“Perhaps Black Snake gives her to Otter,” murmured Little Turtle.

While they spoke, everyone watched to see where Blossom would take this strangely dressed girl. The whole village knew that Otter had brought a deer to Willow’s lodge, only to find that the girl and her old mother had left Waccachalla on some mysterious errand. Many thought that Bear’s Daughter had deliberately taken Willow away because she thought her too good to be Otter’s wife. Others believed that Bear’s Daughter had long planned that journey and meant no offense to Otter in making it when she did. In any case, the situation had furnished the women with much to discuss. Now all waited to see what would happen.

Among the most interested was Gray Fawn, Otter’s sister. She did not blame her brother for wanting to have sons, nor for seeking out a likely young girl to bear them for him. However, Gray Fawn never trusted the one called Willow, who did not look or act like the other village girls. Her heart had been glad when Otter’s effort to bring Willow into his lodge had failed.

Gray Fawn had been almost relieved when Otter went raiding with the other warriors. She hoped that when he came back, he would have forgotten Willow. Then he could marry someone like Green Briar, the plain daughter of a respected warrior in a nearby village.

Gray Fawn sighed. Now she scarcely knew what to think. It was hard to stand in the door of her
wegiwa
and wait with her daughters to see if Blossom would bring this girl to her. She turned away, unable to watch any longer.

Stretching Cat, the eldest daughter, took her mother’s place in the doorway. “They still come this way,” she reported.

Gray Fawn put her hands to her ears. “I do not want to hear it.”

“No, look—now they turn aside.”

Gray Fawn looked up in time to see Blossom take the girl into the chief’s
wegiwa
.

“Ayee, such a thing as this has not happened before,” Gray Fawn murmured. “Surely Black Snake does not mean to take her as another wife.”

“Bear’s Daughter and Willow have not returned. Perhaps the chief means for this girl to take the other one’s place.”

Without comment, Gray Fawn looked toward the
msi-kah-mi-qui
, and saw Otter and Chief Black Snake emerge from the lodge. The two men stopped at the firestone in the center of the village, where the chief raised his hands to signal to the villagers that he was about to speak.

“Let us go hear his words, my mother,” said Stretching Cat.

Gray Fawn shook her head. “Take your sisters with you if you like. I stay here.”

“Come see your uncle, little ones,” Stretching Cat said, and the two younger girls followed her.

Gray Fawn listened from her doorway.

“People of Waccachalla, this is a strange day,” Black Snake began. “Otter tells of a great battle with the
Shemanese
. Soon the warriors that crossed the O-hio-se-pe return.” A murmur ran through the crowd, then stopped when the chief spoke again. “All your eyes saw the girl that Otter brings from the Kan-tuck-e. She looks much like our Willow who went away with my kinswoman, Bear’s Daughter. Yet this one does not speak our tongue or understand us.” Another murmur rippled among the villagers, until Black Snake raised his arms for quiet. “For now, she stays in my lodge. Know this—none will harm her.”

When the chief finished speaking, he beckoned to Sits-in-Shadow, the medicine man. Clearly enjoying the attention, the medicine man noisily cleared his throat before he spoke.

“People of Waccachalla, much is to be done. When our warriors return, we will make a feast of rejoicing. Prepare for these things.”

Gray Fawn hadn’t caught every word, but she understood at least one thing. Even though Otter had brought both this girl who looked like Willow, and the first news of the other warriors, Black Snake hadn’t let him speak of those things himself. That was not a good sign.

Anna lay on a bed of fragrant hemlock branches in what seemed to be the chief’s home, called a
wegiwa
. She had eaten some stew, not unlike what her stepmother made at Bryan’s Station, and had been given some sort of herbal tea to drink. Now, weary but comfortable under the cover of a soft blanket, Anna tried to sort out her feelings.

Everyone in the village, including the chief, had seemed almost afraid of her, especially when they realized that she did not speak or understand their language. Anna didn’t think she resembled these people at all, especially the way she was dressed. Yet even her captor, who knew she lived in a white settlement, had seemed surprised that Anna didn’t speak his language.

Still, she had been treated well, at least so far. As soon as Anna reached the chief’s
wegiwa
, a woman Anna presumed to be his wife and the girl’s mother had removed Anna’s torn dress and replaced it with the soft shift the chief gave her.

As its folds settled around her, Anna’s skin had tingled with a strange sensation. Never before had she touched an Indian garment, yet the moment this shift touched her, Anna experienced something like a sense of rightness, of homecoming.

My mother wore clothing like this
. The conflicting emotions Anna often experienced when she thought of the mother she’d never known had overcome her.

Indians don’t show their emotions, but that doesn’t mean they don’t feel deeply
. Her father had told Anna so, but at least in that respect, Anna had never been like her mother. More often than not, her face betrayed her feelings even before she acknowledged them herself.

In the chief’s
wegiwa
, Anna knew she must do nothing to make it appear that his gift had displeased her, so she had blinked back her tears. She stroked her new doeskin dress and smiled. The girl had smiled back, while her mother had merely inclined her head slightly.

Later the chief’s wife showed Anna where she would sleep. She was thankful that Black Snake had allowed her to stay in his own lodge with his wife and daughter, instead of giving her to the man who had brought her there. Anna did not feel so frightened as she pondered what might happen to her. So far no harm had come to her. Once she had been separated from Otter, these Indian villagers had treated her well—almost like an honored guest, Anna thought. The realization filled her with hope that she would be allowed to return to Bryan’s Station.

I wish I understood their language
. That thought reminded Anna of her Latin teacher—Stuart, from whom she had learned much more than Latin. Although she was separated physically from him, Stuart Martin was never absent from her mind and heart for very long. He might be arriving in Bryan’s Station even now, she thought. She imagined his surprise and dismay that she wasn’t there to greet him. But he would be there when she returned, she thought with confidence, ready to be with and protect her the rest of their lives.

Anna sighed. As bright as that prospect seemed, for the foreseeable future, at least, she had only herself to depend upon.

K
ANAWHA
T
RAIL

“We stop here,” White Eagle said at midafternoon.

Willow had expected to travel until sunset, but made no reply as he turned from the trail, through dense underbrush into a hidden clearing beside a quiet stream.

She spread their wedding blanket on the ground while White Eagle unsaddled Mishewa and tied him a few yards away, between the glen and the trail.

“If anyone comes near, Mishewa will let us know.”

Suddenly shy, Willow ducked her head and turned away. “I will gather firewood.”

White Eagle put out a staying hand. “We have no need of a fire.”

From the intense look he gave her, Willow didn’t have to ask what he meant. She knew that when a man took a wife, certain things passed between them. Unfortunately, she had no clear idea of exactly what those things included. Willow remembered what Bear’s Daughter had said to her when her moon-cycles began.

“Your body will be ready to bear children when you take a husband.”

“How does this thing happen?” Willow had asked.

“Your man will lie with you. His seed will fill your belly.”

Willow had felt more puzzled than enlightened. “Where does this seed come from, my mother?”

“A man carries it inside himself.”

“How does it get out to fill his wife’s belly?”

Bear’s Daughter sighed. “I have already said too much. When it is time, you will know of it.”

Bear’s Daughter had never again spoken of the matter, but since then, Willow had learned a few things for herself. She knew that a man kept his seed-planter under his breechclout. She had felt a hardness there in the young warriors who had pressed their bodies against hers during the last Corn Dance. Sometimes, although she was careful not to show it, Willow had felt a strange stirring, a desire to press back, to prolong and deepen the contact between herself and them. Then, some weeks ago while gathering herbs deep in the forest at dawn, she had almost stumbled over a naked couple, twined together in sleep on a bed of pine needles. Although she immediately averted her eyes, Willow had seen enough to make her wonder even more.

Yet Willow sensed that nothing she had previously seen or heard or experienced could have prepared her for this moment, when her husband’s arms closed around her and his mouth fastened hungrily on hers. She wanted to respond in the same way, but when she thought she heard a twig snap, she pulled away, wary lest someone should come upon them.

“The sun is yet high,” she said against his shoulder.

Although she had been unsure what would actually happen between them, Willow had presumed that their first coupling would take place in the dark privacy of their own lodge, not outside in the open sunlight.

White Eagle drew back and looked at her intently. “Its light helps me see you better. You have beautiful hair,” he murmured, stroking it. “Your eyes are like a doe’s.” He kissed both her eyelids, then framed her face in his hands. “Your skin is the color of ripe grain.” His voice seemed hoarse, his breathing more rapid. “Your lips are sweeter than berries,” he said, and once more tasted them.

Willow stood still, uncertain of what White Eagle expected of her. Even as he spoke words of praise, she could not be sure he meant them. Men often uttered extravagant compliments during Corn Dances; but even then, the warriors who had pressed their bodies close to hers had never said such things of her. She had thought it was because her hair was not as black nor her skin as tawny as the other maidens. Now, as her husband embraced her again, Willow tried to remember some of the words the maidens spoke to their men, but she could not. Instead, she spoke what was in her heart.

“You are a brave warrior,” she said against his chest. “Your body is strong. Inside your arms, I feel safe.” She lifted her head and looked boldly into his eyes. “Your touch pleases me, my husband.”

“So do your words please me.” He touched his fingertips to his mouth, then laid them on her lips. “I am your man. I will keep you safe.”

He took a step back and pulled off his hunting shirt, revealing his muscular bare torso. Slowly but deliberately he unlaced the top of her shift, which began to slip from her shoulders. She shivered, although the day was warm. Instinctively she put her hands on the garment, arresting its further slide down.

He pressed close to her, his bare chest radiating a heat not born of the summer day. “I would see your body,” he whispered.

His words expressed his yearning, and in this, she would do his will. With her eyes fastened on his face, she slowly lowered the shift until it dropped to the ground. She stood before him, naked save for her knee-high buckskin leggings, anxious only that her body might not displease him.

The late afternoon sun slanted into the glade, gilding their bodies and outlining each line and curve. For the space of a heartbeat, White Eagle stared at Willow. She read the admiration and hunger in his eyes and realized the growing need she felt for her body to press against his.

He made a noise low in his throat, and she thought he was about to speak. Instead, White Eagle took her hands and pressed them briefly against the swell of his breechclout, then he swept her into his arms again. She felt a warm glow where their bare flesh met, and shivered in surprise when he parted her lips with his tongue. While one arm still circled her waist, half supporting her, his free hand began to explore her body. She closed her eyes and rested her head against his shoulder. She gave herself over to the pleasurable prickling of her skin where he touched her face, her arms, her neck. When his hand found her breasts, she felt a thrill of surprise that his light touch could so harden her nipples. They tingled and strained against his hand, and her whole body ached to be caressed. Palm down, his hand stroked her flat belly, then cupped the softness of the mound between her legs. She gasped and pushed herself into the unexpected hardness of his hand as he continued to fondle her. Savoring his touch and feeling a need to return it, she put one hand around his neck to steady herself. With the other, she rubbed his chest and taut stomach.

He wrapped his hands around Willow’s buttocks and pulled her against the center of his growing hardness. His mouth moved over her breasts, and his tongue circled her taut nipples, dropping to lave her belly, until her head fell back and she sighed with pleasure. His touch traveled over her entire body and produced sensations she had never even imagined, much less known.

“Come, my love,” he whispered. Effortlessly he picked her up and carried her to the waiting wedding blanket. Gently he laid her down, then knelt beside her. His hands stroked her face, and he buried his face in her breasts, murmuring endearments.

When he touched her inner thighs, she opened her eyes and gazed into her husband’s face as if seeking reassurance. “I have not been with a man before.”

“I am glad of it.”

His hair brushed her face. She shut her eyes as he leaned down to kiss her, then she felt him move away. She opened her eyes again just as he reached down to remove his breechclout. She caught only a fleeting glimpse of the naked hardness she had only felt before as he lowered his body to hers.

“I will be careful. It will not hurt long.”

Her ears heard but her mind did not understand his words. What hurt could there be in this pleasure, when her whole body vibrated with love for him and longed for his caresses?

Gently his knee urged her legs apart while his fingers found the tender wetness of her womanhood. He lowered his body to hers and slowly began to enter her. She gasped and stiffened involuntarily at the unexpected stab of pain. He pulled back for a moment, his eyes searching hers.

“Do you want me to stop?”

Willow shook her head, ashamed she had cried out. Her pain had already faded; it was far less important than the need she felt to finish what they had begun. She put her arms around him and pulled him close. Her body strained upward to meet his, then began to pulse with a rhythm she felt in her blood.

Feeling alternately numb and vitally alive, she forgot her discomfort as he swelled inside her. Every part of her body longed for the release that she sensed his body could give her. Nothing else existed except the two of them, working together to express their shared love. Breathlessly they moved, slowly at first, then faster and faster until, hearts beating as one, they both found that sweet agony their bodies sought.

“I love you,” she whispered at the moment of her man’s jubilant cry.

“Now you are truly mine,” White Eagle said when his breath returned.

“And I am yours, my husband,” she whispered.

They lay together side by side, drowsily content. As if from a long way off, Willow heard the sound of the nearby stream, and somewhere a mourning dove called to its mate.

Even though it could bring bad luck to say such a thing, Willow wanted to tell her husband that never had she felt so complete or happy. When, unaccountably, she shivered in the cooling evening breeze, White Eagle held her even closer and kissed her cheek. She looked up at him and laughed.

“What do you find funny?” he asked.

Willow smiled. “I did not know what a fine thing this seed-planting could be.”