Another Chance (31 page)

Wol
f nodded before escorting Jeremiah to the front step.

"Luke, I will see you at the river
."

Sarah
followed close behind, watched Wolf's neighbor mount, salute, and ride away.

Wolf spoke over his shoulder
. "How did you know about the portage?"

Color burned her cheeks
.

He turned around slowly and waited
.

"I told thee
. We canoed there."

"Why?"
His pitch black eyes focused on her face.

"Why?" she repeated his word, trying to find a believable answer
.

"Yes, why?"
He folded his arms across his chest, leaned back so that the rail supported his hips, but never diverted his gaze from hers.

She sought a reply, unable to find one, she replied truthfully, "For fun
."

"Fun?
Quakers work, but seldom spend a whole day having 'fun.'" He crossed one foot over the other.

The position should have looked relaxed, yet he reminded
Sarah of a cat ready to pounce. Clearing her throat, she said, "Well, we did."

"Why so far away?
Why not closer to home?" He shifted his arms so his palms rested against the wooden rail.

Shrugging her shoulders, she said, "Someone planned the trip
. I went along."

"Many things about you are strange
." Slowly, he moved until again he stood straight and tall.

She forced a laugh
. "I keep telling thee I am different."

"Truly you are
." He started to leave. "I will look for Little Turtle to tell him my plans, but, if I do not find him, will you explain where I have gone?"

Sarah
nodded, put out her arm to halt his steps, but hesitated before touching him. "Thee will be careful?" she asked. Her eyes lingered on his face.

"I will be fine
." He raised his hand and skimmed across her cheek with his knuckle.

She shivered from the pleasure
. Sarah wanted to kiss his slightly parted lips and share her joy with him. Doing so where others might see them made her timid, so she placed her fingers on his sleeve. Even this light touch increased the wonderful sensations within her. Closing her eyes, she tilted her head and enjoyed the moment, while waiting for his lips to cover hers. When his hand ceased to move across her face, she blinked and stared. He had stepped away without kissing her.

"I will miss thee," she whispered
.

His face softened
. She hoped to hear him repeat her words. Instead, he whirled around. Without another word, he trotted toward the barn.

Sarah
leaned against the wooden post, keeping her attention on him. Even when he had disappeared inside the building, she lingered, longing for one last glimpse of him. While she lingered, a thought recurred. If he knew the truth about her life before the inn, what would he say? She should tell him, but when and how? Did her old life make a difference? A sense of dishonesty entered her mind, as it had each time she recalled her previous existence, for her present life was based on a lie.

When he rode out of the barn, he glanced in her direction and waved
. The weight of how he would react to her undisclosed past added to her depression.

Although he was too far away to see her smile, she plastered one on her face just in case
. She stood erect, whipped out her handkerchief and signaled back. When he had ridden out of sight, she wiped a tear and fought back the rest. She must stop this crying. She had never cried so much in her own century.

             
* * * *

As Wolf rode in search of Little Turtle, he thought about
Sarah and the inconsistencies in her life, her knowledge about Europe, her reaction to stitching Daniel's wound, her non-Quaker-like attitudes toward fighting, and now her information about Doe Run. None of these fit his picture of a person who upheld the rules of the Society of Friends. One or two might be excused, for Wolf had met successful Quaker businessmen traveling in Europe. He had heard some had volunteered for the army, although their joining would cause them to be 'Read Out'. Sarah had too many differences. Her father, although not allowed to attend meeting, epitomized their beliefs. Why didn't his daughter? Simply rebellion? She reminded him of a puzzle with pieces missing.

Upon reaching a small clearing near the stream, Wolf spied Little Turtle
. The child held a knife in his hand and appeared to be concentrating. Wolf watched in silence. His son flicked his wrist. The knife rotated one full turn. The handle struck the ground.

"E-e!"
the boy screamed in frustration.

Wolf rode closer and dismounted
. He saw his son survey him, taking in the bow and quiver of arrows draped over his chest. The child's gaze moved over the horse, and he obviously noticed the bedroll and the rifle. Little Turtle sighed, picked up his blade, and began wiping the handle off on his shirt.

The coolness of his son's greeting recalled the discussion he had with his grandfather
. Wolf resolved to spend more time with his only child when this task was completed. "Jeremiah Low has brought news of the patrol that raided our plantation."

Little Turtle stopped fingering his knife and looked interested
.

Wolf told him the plans
. "When I return, we will practice throwing our knives." He lifted the boy and squeezed him. "I will return soon after sunrise tomorrow."

His son grabbed Wolf's neck in a vise
. "
Kitanito wet
go with you and keep you safe."

"I thank you for your prayers
." Wolf lowered the child to the ground. Before releasing the boy, he hunkered down, struck by an idea. "While I am gone, you must take care of Sarah." The child's body tightened, but Wolf ignored the reaction. "She is our guest."

He pouted
. "How long is she staying?"

Gently, Wolf cupped the lad's chin
. "You remember that the men who invaded our farm also looted the Stone's property."

He nodded
.

"These soldiers want to harm
Sarah. While she remains with us, she is safe. If she returns home before the men responsible are caught, she will be hurt."

His lip no longer stuck out, but his eyes showed his confusion
. "She is a white woman. Why would the British do that?"

"Do the Susquehannas war on the Lenape?"

"Yes, but we are enemies," the boy stated firmly.

"The Americans and the British are fighting one another; so the two are also enemies
."

"
Sarah is a woman," the child protested. "They have no place in battle."

"Lenape believe that, others do not
."

Little Turtle shook his head
. "White ways are strange."

"Tri
bes raid villages for hostages, both male and female. Not all of those taken are treated kindly, even by our own people," Wolf said, wanting to give his son a fairer picture.

"If you capture the men responsible, will
Sarah go home?"

While the child's face beamed at the possibility, the same words caused a knife to penetrate Wolf's heart
. With a solemn voice, he said, "She will have no reason to stay here."

His son squeezed him
then stepped back. "I will do as you ask. When you return we will feast, then she can leave."

Wolf rose with difficulty
. His body and soul ached as if they had seen as many seasons as his grandfather. After bidding a last goodbye to the boy, he mounted his horse and started off. As he rode, he thought about the joy and the sorrow Sarah's leaving would cause him. Still, he could see no way to change the inevitable.

              * * * *

After controlling her emotions,
Sarah decided to revisit Quick Rabbit. She dashed to her room to pick up a few items. On her way out the door, she saw her cap lying on a chair. Bowl Woman or Nu Hum had washed and pressed it for her. The remaining string caught her attention.
This will do nicely.
With a determined stride, she set off.

As she drew near the cabin, she scrutinized the lone woman
. From her vantage point nothing appeared to have changed. A long, thick lock of Quick Rabbit's hair still obscured her face, although it no longer hung straight. The wind must have tangled her hair, for she looked un-groomed, but her position looked much the same.

A brick dropped off the wall of confidence
Sarah had erected yesterday.
Can I break through? Thou
will never know unless thou keeps trying
, she thought, responding to her own question.

"I decided to come back and see thee
." Sarah crouched down in front of Quick Rabbit, wanting to brush the hair away from the woman's face.

"I didn't bring any food.
" An idea suddenly occurred to her. Pulling out her hairbrush from her pocket, Sarah said, "May I brush thy hair?" Knowing there would be no response she knelt beside Quick Rabbit and prepared to start.

What if she flinches as she did the first time I to
uched her? 'He who hesitates',
she thought.

Gently,
Sarah placed her hand on top of Quick Rabbit's head and waited. The woman remained still.
So far, so good.
Just as slowly and softly, Sarah laid the brush on the near side of the part in Quick Rabbit's hair. The woman's passive behavior continued. With infinite patience, .Sarah began her first stroke. When she reached the tangled part, she slid her hand under the clump of hair and eased the brush through the matted section, trying not to pull. Quick Rabbit appeared not to notice the slight tugs. Since she did not object, Sarah continued.

While working, she babbled about various, unimportant matters, but never mentioned the foray
. She did not want to think about the danger for Wolf, and Quick Rabbit needed no reminders about the British patrol. When Sarah finished, she took the cord from her cap and tied Quick Rabbit's hair back. Sarah leaned back and looked at her handiwork. For the first time since Sarah had arrived, the Lenape woman looked presentable.

"Thou has a wonderful son,"
Sarah said. "I'm sure he would be pleased at how pretty thou looks."

Quick Rabbit raised her chin and stared at
Sarah.

"Thou moved!"
What shall I say now?
Sarah could not tell the woman her son had left to join the army. "Long Knife has gone, hunting." A small twinge of guilt pricked her at the white lie, then she realized he had gone hunting but not for game. Sarah smiled and pushed any feeling aside of deception aside.

"He should be back soon
." She hoped and prayed she spoke the truth. If Wolf caught those responsible, Long Knife would have no reason to stay with the Continentals.

"Your son and the lad who worked for my father are acquainted
." Sarah recited in as much detail and embellishment as she could about the boys' first meeting. She spun out her story about the apples, the meal and the lads' appetites, but Quick Rabbit made no further moves. When Sarah finished her tale, she could think of nothing else to say. Uncertain if she had helped, Sarah said, "I will return tomorrow."

As she rose to her feet, Quick Rabbit's eyes briefly followed her, before dropping away
. The slight movement added encouragement to Sarah. "Perhaps, we can take a walk," she said, as she dusted off her apron.

Quick Rabbit gave no response
. Since Sarah had not expected any, her enthusiasm remained high. "I will come early." She waved.

As she walked toward the house, the pleasure she had experienced when Quick Rabbit had reacted faded replaced by her fear for Wolf
. She had given him all the information she had, hadn't she? Why did something nag at her?
The swamp.
She started reviewing their conversation and abruptly stopped. Had she told him about the marshlands and heavy underbrush surrounding the creek at this spot? Sarah pictured herself talking. Just as she had started to, he had interrupted her to ask her how she knew so much about the river. Had she returned to the subject? She could not remember, but she did not think she had. The water, the surveyors showed on the map, would have covered this problem. If Wolf and Jeremiah did not possess this information, they might find themselves bogged down in their carefully laid net. Sarah must find them and warn them, but how? They had an hour or two heads start. She could never walk fast enough to catch them.
Thee could ride.
Her stomach turned over as her fear of horses returned.

A twig broke
. Sarah whipped around. "Little Turtle." She took a deep breath and tried to calm her fright and the inward churning caused by thinking about riding. "Did thy father find thee?" Perhaps, Wolf had been delayed starting.