Black Eagle (21 page)

She loved this man. It was an inescapable truth; it was also an enormous, terrible thing to realize, for it was all wrong.

But she was not so foolish as to deny it. Not this time. She loved him. And she need no longer wonder why it felt so right to be in his arms.

But dear Lord, she reflected, what was she to do?

She was given little chance to ponder the possibilities, however, for Black Eagle was still hard and full within her. Once again, he was stirring against her and within her, and the marvel of his lovemaking was beginning all over again.

Once more he brought her to that precipice; once again she tripped over its edge, once again she was ascending upward, as though their love were so great, her spiritual being expanded.

Afterward, he picked her up and carried her to shore, where he set her down on the stream's white, rocky shoreline, its pristine pureness a contrast with the dark, cloudy sky overhead. He came down beside her, instantly wrapped her in his arms, and there they sat, each one quiet, each one content it would seem, to be at peace with their own thoughts.

Sweetly, yet seductively, he leaned down to spread kisses over her cheek, downward and over toward her ear, then anew to her lips, and he said, between each and every kiss, “I love you.”

She inhaled deeply, once, then twice, and lifting her chin, so as to give him easy access to her neck, she whispered, “I know.”

For the moment, it was all she would confess, but she reckoned that he understood. There was no going back for her or for him. They were in love with one another. What they were to do about this newfound love, remained unknown, for to live their lives with one another could never, never be.

 

 

It took them little time to find the horses, since the animals had not strayed a great distance from the stream. Nor did they ride the nags back to where Sarah and Thompson were waiting. Instead, they walked, hand in hand, and like lovers everywhere, they couldn't seem to find a position that was close enough. Every now and again, he would stop, take her in his arms and steal a kiss. Not that there was much stealing about it. She was a willing recipient.

On a certain level Marisa realized she should confess that there could never be a future for them. But somehow the words would not find their way to her lips. Instead, she found herself saying, “What would I do without you? You, who have recused me twice, and in so many days?”

His response was an odd one, for he said, “So long as I live, breathe and walk upon this earth, you will not have to do without me. In truth, I fear it will be difficult for you to get rid of me.”

She should have told him then and there. It was important that he be reminded that their lives could never be entwined. But she didn't tell him. It simply wasn't in her to do so.

Instead, she savored every moment with him, for she realized that this might be all she would ever have. There could not be a repeat. And with her hand grasped neatly within his, she pulled on him, bringing him closer to her, and placing her arms around his neck, she said, “I fear to think what would have become of me if I'd had my way and left you behind. I do hope, however, that these accidents are not to become a pattern.”

“I, too,” he said. “I, too.”

After a week on the trail, Black Eagle was more than aware that their days were becoming strewn with too many mishaps. At present, they had stopped and set up camp for the night. Thompson was with the horses. The women were by the stream, rinsing their dishes after the evening meal.

Black Eagle was sitting atop a log, with knife and stick in hand. He was apparently whittling, apparently focused on the shape that was forming on the stick. The truth, however, was that his thoughts were far away.

What was the cause of the accidents? At first Black Eagle had wondered if the women were naturally clumsy. Or perhaps the fault was the weather, since they'd had almost a solid week of rain. But lately he was beginning to speculate that something more sinister might be at work.

That these misfortunes had resulted in only minor injury was hardly the point. That they were happening and that they were sometimes of a fatal nature was the real worry.

One of the mishaps had been related to a fire that the wind had carried into the midst of the women. The result had been that Sarah's dress had caught fire. What had made the incident extreme was that it had happened at a time when they hadn't camped close enough to water to put the fire out.

Luckily, there had been dirt, and much of it close at hand. Black Eagle, Marisa and Thompson had rolled Sarah round and round in the dirt, and though Sarah had required a bath later, it was a small price to pay. At least she had come away with her life, and outside of the shock and a few scratches, there had been little damage.

There was more. There had been the morning three days ago, when Black Eagle had awakened much earlier than the others; he had been away from their camp, hunting. Halfway through the morning, screams from the women had made his heart stand still, and he had rushed back to camp dreading what he would find.

It had been worse than even he could have imagined. A rattlesnake had taken up residence within the women's midst; it had been coiled and ready to strike.

To add to the horror, Thompson had been carelessly aiming at the snake, and had he fired, the shot would have maimed
Ahweyoh
, who was in his line of fire.

Only the utmost presence of mind had enabled Black Eagle to throw a knife fast enough to prevent Thompson from firing that shot. An arrow then sent directly into the head of the snake had ensured that no danger had come to his precious
Ahweyoh
, who had been closest to it.

That this had happened on top of another accident the day previous when one of the horses had kicked out at Sarah, barely missing her head, was stranger yet, since something had fallen onto the horse from above it. A close inspection afterward had found a fallen tree branch; he had also discovered curiously that Thompson had climbed that tree at some time during their stay.

Was it a coincidence?

Or perhaps a wiser question was, were these incidents intended or not?

The problem was, though he was highly suspicious, Black Eagle could prove nothing. Nonetheless, he was finding himself awakening each day, worrying what new misadventure might lie in wait for the women. An even further concern was that he might not always be near to ensure their continued safety.

Noting lazily that
Ahweyoh
had finished her chore and was stepping toward him, as soon as she came into range, he voiced, “There have been many accidents on the trail.”

“Yes,” she said as she sauntered in closer to him.

Not looking up from his work, he said, “Is it your and Miss Sarah's custom to have so many ills befall you?”

“No,” she answered, “I admit it is not.” She sat down beside him and placed her legs out in front of her, appearing to be stretching her calf and thigh muscles. “ 'Tis strange. Have you been considering some theory as to what is happening to cause this?”

He shrugged. “A little. But I have nothing to report except to tell you that you were in Thompson's line of fire the day when you awoke to find a snake as a bedfellow. Had Thompson fired, you might have been killed.”

She nodded. “That's why you stopped him from shooting?”

“It is.”

“Do you think Thompson was being careless? ”

“It is either that or he aimed to do you harm.”

“To do me harm? Surely not. Is that what you think? ”

Black Eagle didn't answer the question, nor did he defend himself or his theory, rather he said, “I've also discovered that Thompson had climbed one of the trees that hovered over the horse that day when it kicked out at Miss Sarah. I believe a branch had fallen on the horse, which caused its reaction.”

Marisa met this news with silence. After a time, however, she said, “Do you suspect Thompson is trying to do us harm?”

“It is either that or these accidents are the subject of misfortune.”

Again, Marisa was silent.

He proffered, “You can decide for yourself which is it. I'm merely speaking to you to inform you of what I have found.”

“But if it were intended, why would he do it?”

Again, Black Eagle shrugged. “Have you insulted the man?”

“No.”

“Have you done his family any harm?”

“Of course not. In truth, I don't believe he has a family.”

“Then perhaps it is coincidence,” said Black Eagle. “I have no proof of wrongdoing, and it is well that if a man is going to accuse another, he should be certain of his facts.”

“I see. What do you suggest we do?”

“Stay alert. Check over your supplies daily, prepare yourself for anything and be surprised at nothing. But stay alert.”

She nodded. “How many more days do you think we have on this trail before we find ourselves in Abenaki country?”

“Not many, perhaps two or three.”

“And will we change the manner in which we travel once we are in Abenaki territory?”

“
Nyoh
, yes, since it will be dangerous to travel during the day, we will sleep when the sun is up and travel by moonlight. The Abenaki hate the English almost as much as they do the Mohawk. So, yes, we will change the time in which we travel.”

“Will that cause the danger of these accidents to become even more . . . dangerous?”

He paused, then said, “It is so.”

She rocked back on the log where they sat and she swallowed hard. “A gunshot, a scream, any loud noise could prove disastrous?”

“It is so.”

She sat up and placing her hand over his thigh, she said, “Tell me what else to do.”

“I little know since I cannot predict these accidents. All I can advise is to stay alert, and once we reach Abenaki country, to remain quiet, no matter what happens.”

“I fear it will be difficult,” she said, rubbing her hand over his thigh muscle. “However, I am glad that you're here. Thank you.”

He nodded, and ceased his whittling long enough to squeeze her hand. They sat, looking deeply into one another's eyes, before he set back to work with knife and stick. Marisa rose and swung around, and in doing so came face-to-face with Thompson, who was looking at her as though she had taken leave of her senses, as if she were a breed apart.

But he said not a word to her. Quietly, he turned and walked away.

Marisa swung back toward Black Eagle. “Thompson was standing behind us. Do you think he heard us?”

“He might have done so. Therefore, beware,” he said. “Trust nothing, and keep your eyes open.”

“Yes,” she said. “I will.”

 

 

“Thank you, Sir Eagle,” said Marisa, as she stepped up to her horse, where Black Eagle was checking the gear on her mount. He nodded toward her, petted the animal and offered Marisa a hand up.

Marisa accepted his assistance, and as she found her seating, she smiled down at him. How he had changed in regard to English custom, she thought. When they had first started their trek, he'd not lent her any assistance on either mounting or dismounting from her horse. Now, however, he didn't miss an opportunity to help her. However, whether this was due to an inclination toward English manners, or from a desire to touch her was in question.

Of course, she had changed, too. Over and over her thoughts turned to Black Eagle's observations about king, country and servitude . . . and her step-uncle, John Rathburn. Ungraciously, perhaps, John Rathburn was becoming the loser in her musings. Was it wrong to believe that some people were beneath you? That some men and women were born to toil for another? That being cunning and accumulating wealth was more important than life?

Or were all people born with innate freedoms? Details so intrinsic that they could not be detached from one?

Marisa didn't know. Once she had thought she had known. Now she wasn't so sure.

But Black Eagle was speaking to her now, and he said, “Was it you who saddled your pony for me this morning?”

“No,” she replied. “Why?”

He frowned. “No reason. But it was already done. Perhaps Thompson completed the task.”

Marisa gave Black Eagle a knowing look. “Thompson? When has Richard Thompson done anything on this trip without being asked first? More likely,” she added, “it was Sarah.”

“
Nyoh
, I'm sure you are right, but perhaps I should ask her, if only to settle my mind.”

“Mohawk!” It was Thompson bellowing, and Marisa couldn't help wondering why the man couldn't seem to address Black Eagle by his rightful name. “I need help over here, Injun,” Thompson continued. “Damn nag won't stand still.”