Wilderness Trail of Love (American Wilderness Series Romance Book 1) (39 page)

Wanalancet held Jane’s chin in his hand and stared penetratingly into her face. Looking beyond the green of her eyes, the Chief seemed to be studying her heart. “Your love is that deep?” he finally asked, and Sam translated.

“I would die for every one of these men, my brothers, and I would die a thousand times for my husband,” Jane answered.

“You would die for them, but I ask you to live for me. To come with me is not death. It is life. I will sing the sacred song of the stars to you. I will honor you with many slaves and gifts. You will rule over our people with me. Your beauty is worthy of a Chief. You are tall for a woman and your spirit is strong. You will be the mother of all our people.”

For the moment, Stephen would continue to give Jane a chance to stand up to the Chief. The pluck she showed impressed him and she had chosen her words wisely. He prayed that would continue, because not only did her words need to reach Wanalancet, they could not cause the Chief’s temper to flare.

“I am already a mother,” Jane declared, pointing to the three children, “and I have already heard the song of the stars and have it written on my heart. My God permits only one man to sing the precious song of love to a woman. To leave that man would mean spiritual death for me and dishonor. But if you let them all live, and leave the other two women, I will no longer follow my husband and go with you. I will willingly be a wife to you in all ways. As God is my witness, I speak the truth.”

“Never!” Stephen growled.

“Tell him,” Jane ordered Sam.

After Sam translated, the Chief straightened his broad back. “You are in
no
position to bargain. You will go with me, after I kill the wolf man, or I will kill them all if I need to,” Wanalancet said, his voice harsh, his eyes threatening.

“Then I will never stop fighting you,” Jane said, her eyes suddenly blazing, “especially when you want to lay with me.”

Stephen noticed Sam watching Wanalancet’s every breath and studying every muscle on the Chief’s proud face. The slightest flicker of hostility in the man’s eyes would release the knife clenched in his hand because that fraction of an instant would be the only advantage they would have. If Sam acted at the right moment, he could kill the Chief. Bear’s hatchet would sink into the brave closest to him and he hoped the weapons he and William held would fire and hit their targets. And Wanalancet would be a dead man. He would make sure of that.

But Wanalancet had probably brought his best braves with him and they could be equally lethal. Quick as a snake. With his hands and feet tied, John would be dead in a moment. Several of them would definitely die, heaven forbid, even the children. He had to stop that from happening. However, he would not let Jane make this terrible sacrifice even if Wanalancet agreed. He couldn’t betray her trust in him.

Stumped, he couldn’t decide what to do or say next.

Wanalancet turned from Jane to Sam. “Bloody Hand, I must kill wolf man. Tell him to prepare himself.”

CHAPTER 43

B
efore Sam even translated, Stephen understood what was about to happen. His heart pounded in fury. They were caught in that moment between life and death. What happened next would determine if they were going to live. He would not back down. He was more than ready to die if need be. He would
never
let Wanalancet take Jane.

She carried his heart. She carried his son.

Stephen had to convince the Chief that Jane was his. He turned to Wanalancet and said, “Trying to kill me would be a mistake. I destroy evil. Are you so sure that your heart holds no evil? If it does, I will prevail. My spirit has the courage of good, not evil. Unafraid of the wilderness, I have come far and journey further only to make a new life and a better home for my family. I respect you great Chief, and have no desire to take your life and those of your braves. But my honor will not let you steal my wife. Stealing her would be an act of evil.”

Wanalancet seemed to consider what Sam translated and then replied, “I too have traveled far to claim my new wife and start a new life with her. I did this because my spirit joined hers through
the smoke of my sacred pipe. I love her spirit already.” The Chief hauled Jane over to stand beside him. “And I will love her body soon.”

Jane didn’t resist but her face went bright with anger.

Stephen quickly stomped toward Wanalancet, his teeth bared, his own face burning with wrath. He ignored the brave’s drawn arrow closely following his movements. It was time to end this, one way or another.

“Sam, tell him exactly what I say—exactly.” Stephen forced himself to speak slowly. “We can fight now for which life and which spirit wins—yours or mine—but some of you will die and some of us will die.” He waited for Sam to translate, then continued. “Those of us who live will hunt you until we kill you and we will bring these women back to us. This woman is already a wife,
mine
, and by all that is sacred, she always will be. Taking another man’s wife is evil. And I must fight evil where I find it.”

“My heart is not evil,” Wanalancet said firmly.

“It will be forever evil. If you take my wife.” His gaze on Wanalancet remained steady.

Sam translated, then added, “I too have traveled far—to leave behind bloody wars I have fought with both the Indians and white men. We have been enemies for many years. You, your braves, and other tribes, fought us with great courage. And the white men fought each other bravely. But the time has come for us to live in the same world and let the same sun enlighten us all. We all need land to grow food and game to hunt. The Algonquian tribes must have their world and their lives. And we must have ours. There is enough land for you and for us.”

Then, Stephen continued, “It is not brave or honorable for you
to steal women from among us. Even though the numbers are few, the grief you cause is great. If you stop, it will be easier for the white man to respect you and call you wise. A wise soul understands that there are good and bad among any tribe and any nation. But good men will always be greater in number than the bad. You and I must not let bad men determine how we treat each other. My brother does not want his hand to run red with Indian blood, especially the blood of a great Chief. But his knife is savage when it needs to be. We
will
kill you, but only if you harm our family or steal these women. We can be brothers or we can be enemies. You must decide. Now.”

“His knife is savage, but it is also a noble blade,” Wanalancet said, “unlike the blade of Bomazeen. He was one of the bad men that you speak of. I regret now that he sometimes acted for me because I am not one of these bad men. I see truth in the blade of the big knife because his heart is true. Your spirit, wolf man, is the strongest I have known among white men. But I have come far for this woman. I must consider what to do and what the Great Spirit tells me.”

The imposing Indian circled Jane, seeming to study her body and soul. With each circle, his movements nearly graceful and his self-assurance unmistakable, Wanalancet drew closer to her. Each loop the Chief made around Jane lessened Stephen’s self-control. Soon he would have none. Forgetting their plan, he decided he would kill the man himself.

Then, Wanalancet bent down and, for what seemed an eternity, studied the fire. Stephen wondered if the flames tied the Chief’s soul to the ways of the old spirits. Wanalancet’s eyes soon blazed, as though some unknown life force spoke only to the Chief. He hoped they were words of wisdom and peace.

Stephen barely breathed but his hands gripped his weapons tightly. The dripping leaves surrounding them sounded like a thousand ticking clocks. Sam and the others remained quiet. Stephen prepared himself to kill if needed.

Finally, Wanalancet stood tall, his long raven hair billowing in the breeze, and spoke again. “Bomazeen was right. This woman would make good mother to my people. I see great strength in her eyes and her body. But I do not want a woman whose spirit will die. Her beauty would wither like winter leaves. It has been so with others we have taken. Perhaps, as you say, it is false-hearted for us to continue to steal slaves. It is not my desire to do evil. We will leave you now with your lives and women. We will travel on to southern tribes and trade for women there.”

Wanalancet motioned for his braves to put away their weapons and they obeyed immediately.

Stephen lowered his weapons somewhat and finally breathed but kept relief from showing on his face.

Bear, who understood the Algonquian language better than he could speak it, put away his hatchet and slowly stepped forward. He removed his necklace and presented it solemnly to the Chief.

Stephen knew what a great sacrifice Bear was making to seal the agreement with the Chief. He also saw in Bear’s eyes a new respect for the man Wanalancet was and suspected that he no longer thought of the Chief as merely a wild savage.

Wanalancet’s eyes widened in surprise and obvious pleasure as he studied the string of bear claws and teeth.

Stephen removed the wolf hide from his shoulder and slowly brought it to the Chief.

Wanalancet’s eyes, bright with the fire’s reflection, considered
Stephen for a few moments before the Chief reached out for the dark skin. “This symbol of the spirit of the wolf is a costly gift. A wolf pelt is worth more than 40 beaver skins and presenting a gift of the fur of a wolf is an act of reconciliation. I accept this gift and your gesture of peace with it.”

After Sam translated, Stephen said, “I will keep one skin and you the other. As these wolves were linked in strength and alliance in life, so will we be.”

Wanalancet moved to the side of his horse, who sidled uneasily at the smell of the fresh wolf hide, now hanging from the Chief’s muscular forearm. He reached into a deer-hide pouch and removed his Calumet, sheathed in the neck of a loon. After filling the pipe’s red marble bowl with tobacco, and lighting it with a stick from the fire, he smoked the peace pipe for a few moments before offering it to Stephen.

“My spirit gives this woman’s spirit back to you,” Wanalancet told him.

Stephen took the pipe respectfully, and smoked several puffs before passing it back to the Chief. Wanalancet then solemnly passed it to each of the other men in turn before taking a final drag on the long pipe decorated with bird feathers and locks of human hair.

With the pipe cradled in his arms folded across his chest, Wanalancet said, “I ask only one thing of you.”

“What?” Sam asked, warily.

“That you use your noble blade to cut a length of this woman’s hair,” Wanalancet said, pointing to Jane.

Sam glanced uneasily at Stephen and then translated.

Stephen hesitated a moment but then nodded his assent, and motioned for Sam to give him his knife. If this had to be done, he would do it himself. He took the knife and cut a length of Jane’s hair, as she stood motionless, her face revealing nothing. He offered the locks to the Chief.

Wanalancet sat down by the fire and used one of the rawhide strips hanging from the pipe to carefully secure Jane’s hair to the quill. Silently, they all focused on the shining copper curls now adorning the Chief’s sacred pipe.

Stephen sat down next to the Chief. “Now, I ask only one thing of you great Chief.”

Wanalancet studied him as Sam translated.

“Would you clean your heart of Bomazeen’s evil by returning the yellow-haired girl back to her people? I believe her Christian name is Lucy,” Stephen asked.

Wanalancet gazed again at the fire’s flames and smoke, his face impassive.

“I ask you to do this good thing,” Stephen said. “If you do, and take her back to where Bomazeen stole her, we will all thank our God for your wisdom and ask for his blessings for many seasons upon you and your tribe.”

“It will be done,” Wanalancet finally said. He stood abruptly, removed one of the many strings of pearls on his chest, and placed the strand around Jane’s neck.

Jane’s face remained impassive, but her eyes, filled with gratitude, met Wanalancet’s. “God’s grace onto you,” she said with dignity.

Sam translated and Wanalancet nodded and turned away.

Moments later, the Chief and his braves disappeared into the woods.

Stephen turned to his wife.
His wife
.

Jane, crying from joy and relief, jerked the wolf skin off Stephen’s shoulders and tossed the rank hide aside before hugging him fiercely. She wanted to never let him go. She wanted him by her side every moment for the rest of her life. To love him forever and ever.

He kissed her as though it were their first kiss—gently at first and then with a passion as wild as the wilderness itself. Then they both ran toward the children. Stephen untied and picked up both girls, hugging them against his chest as she repeatedly kissed their faces. Bear helped Jane quickly untie Little John and he carried the boy over to John, while she ran to retrieve the painkiller the child would need. Sam and Catherine assisted John. William untied Kelly and putting his arm around her still shaking shoulders, guided her to a seat by the fire.

As she came back with the medicine, Jane observed her family, her heart filling with gratitude that they were all unharmed. After getting Little John and the girls settled and comfortable again, she slipped her arms around Stephen’s waist. Suddenly overwhelmed by the torment of the last few hours, she smothered a sob against his chest.