The Bearwalker's Daughter (27 page)
Read The Bearwalker's Daughter Online
Authors: Beth Trissel
The cozy space stood firm despite the pounding unleashed against it, the woven walls further shielded by deer and elk skins stretched over them on three sides and draped to the ground. A patchwork of red, brown, and caramel furs covered the stone floor and had been tucked back into the crevice between the walls and floor to keep out the cold.
Her mud-streaked cloak and grimy petticoats hung on a hook made from an antler. This left Karin in her shift and laced-up jacket; her shoes and stockings were spread before the fire. Shequenor must have seen to her before he wrapped her in the furs.
Behind her, the rock cleft cut back into the ridge. Nooks in the stone held several small barrels and crocks. Molasses? Cornmeal? No. It couldn’t be. Wait— was that a barrel of whiskey? How on earth did he get all of that in here?
She ran her eyes over buckskin pouches of various sizes containing more supplies. The firelight touched on the barrel of a long rifle partly hidden in the shadows. Nearby lay a tomahawk and powder horn. All was at hand, even a supply of carved cups and bowls and an iron pot…so unlikely in these frozen woods. Shequenor had done all this, her father. Ingenious and as varied as the wind.
He stood with his back to her, his long hair loose down over his shoulders. He’d removed his fur mantle and wore an earth-colored shirt styled like Jack’s in addition to his leggings and moccasins. No doubt he had a breechclout underneath but the shirt’s long hem hid that.
His tall figure bent near the fire to carve a haunch of venison on a big wooden platter. More portions of game were spitted over the flames. They had meat aplenty. A small pot simmered in the orange coals wafting the fragrance of wintergreen, herbal tea perhaps. At the side of the fire, she spied a basket of hazelnuts. Another held ripe persimmons. The appetizing sights and scents made her even more ravenous than she already was.
“You are awake,
Neetanetha
.” Shequenor spoke over his shoulder in his deep mellow voice.
She’d barely stirred in her cocoon. “How did you know?”
He turned his cat-like gaze on her. “I know many things.”
“Yes.” It was a foolish question. “Did I sleep long?”
“No. You swooned soon after I took you from the horse.”
“Oh. This is a welcome place to wake in,
Notha
.”
Again, that faint flicker of approval in his eyes that she’d seen before. “I am glad you find it so. Now, you must eat.”
“Gratefully.” She was famished, but so stiff any movement seemed beyond her. She slowly pushed up on her elbows, her thoughts taking a leap. “Where’s Jack?”
“With Peki.”
“He must be so cold and hungry by now.”
“As is the horse. He must first care for his mount.”
Karin had heard that all her life. “Of course.”
“Do not fear for Jack. He will come.”
His soothing tone surprised her, as did his welcome in this lifesaving shelter. She blinked at tears. “I did not think to find you kind.”
His expression softened a little more. “For you, always.”
“Are you certain? You are so difficult to know.”
He knelt beside her with slices of venison speared on his knife. “I am certain of my fondness for you.”
“What of Jack? You don’t like him, do you?”
Shequenor gripped the deerskin-wrapped handle so hard his knuckles whitened. “I like few men. Respect is more important.”
He offered her the venison and she took a piece. “Do you respect him, then?” she asked, and bit into the warm meat.
A shrug, and he allowed, “More than before.”
She chewed hungrily and swallowed. “Before we came here?”
“Before he came to you.”
She sensed he was indulging her, that he didn’t normally converse at length with anyone. “I love Jack.”
He eyed her as he might a child. “Do you even know the meaning of this word?”
“Uh huh.” She couldn’t manage more than that with her mouth full.
A shake of his head, and he said, “You are young.”
His superior attitude was maddening. “I am not wise like you, but I know my heart.”
“You have much to learn.”
“And you sound like my grandfather.”
For a moment, the bear persona Shequenor had laid aside like the fur mantle glared at her and his mouth curled in a snarl. “Never.”
“Grandpa also treats me as a girl, not a woman. How are you different?”
“I am your father. I have suffered much for you.”
“I have suffered too,
Notha
. I never knew Mama, only her voice in the wind.”
He eyed her sharply. “You hear your mother there?”
“Yes, and you. Only I did not realize it was you until now. I also heard Jack before he came.”
A pensive look came over his face. “You are a daughter of the wind.”
“Who else? I’ve had no other parent.”
“Always you had me. I could not come for you.”
“So you sent Jack and made a deal with him to trade your daughter for Peki?”
Scorn tinged Shequenor’s gaze. “He was easily bought, or so I thought. He was to bring you, not to hunger for you.”
“He cannot help how he feels now. Nor can I.”
“No?” Shequenor tossed back, with a downward curve of his mouth. “If you wish for a husband, I will find you one from among the best warriors in our tribe. Jack left us long ago.”
“I want only him.”
“You are foolish.”
“I am in love. Please,
Notha
. Mama pleads with you.”
He stared at her. “Why?”
“To aid me, I believe. And Jack.”
“I am aiding you. Eat,” he said, lips tight.
Karin bit again into the meat and chewed while searching his taut face. He slid the rest of the venison from the blade and gave the slices to her. Returning to the fire, he stood and brooded into the flames.
“
Notha
, I can love you and Jack.”
He swiveled his head at her. “Love me?”
“Yes. I think I do.”
His dark brows arched. “Do you always speak all you think?”
“Is that wrong?” she asked.
Those black eyes regarded her in bemusement. “Dangerous.”
“Will I be harmed for telling the truth?”
“How is it you are without guile?”
She pondered the meaning of the word and how it applied to her.
Before she could ask, Shequenor waved her aside, “No matter. John McNeal has cared well for you, I see,” he grudgingly conceded.
“Yes. But I have longed to know you.”
“I am here.” He took a long wooden ladle and dipped it into the steaming pot.
“Not always as you are now. Why are you sometimes a bear?”
He
poured
the
brew into
a
cup. “I will it.”
“How do you change yourself like that?”
Fathomless eyes regarded her. “Do you wish to learn this magic?”
Sobered at the terrible thought, she shook her head.
Handing her the tea, he said, “Do not ask questions for which you do not wish to learn the answers.”
With that stern rebuff, she sipped in silence, brightening as the flap opened and Jack blew in. Snow coated him and plastered his hair to his face and shoulders. He sprang at the fire and tossed in an armload of kindling he must have chopped with his tomahawk. The flames sizzled to robust life.
He clapped his hands, rubbing his fingers together, and shook himself like a dog. Snow flew from him. “Damn cold out there. Like a witch’s—never mind.”
Karin sat up straighter. “Jack! You’re frozen.”
“To the bone. Ahhh—this fire feels good.”
“Strip off your shirt and climb under these furs with me. I’ll soon warm you.”
Shequenor fixed his astonished gaze on her before he rounded on Jack. “What have you taught my daughter?”
“We are wed,” Karin confessed in their defense. “Like you and Mama. Jack said so.”
“Did he?” Shequenor bit out. “What have you done to this innocent,
NiSawsawh
?”
“Nothing you didn’t do to her mother.”
For a terrible moment, Karin feared Shequenor would kill Jack then and there. His eyes fired daggers at him. “My heart is Mary’s.”
Undaunted by the warrior’s wrath, Jack flung back, “And my heart is your daughter’s.”
“That is not the same.”
“Yes, Shequenor. It is.” He peeled off his wet moccasins and leggings and set them by the fire. “I’m sorry you didn’t know your daughter earlier, but she’s a woman now.”
Shequenor rolled his eyes. “She speaks as a child.”
Jack chuckled. “True, but she’s not. Trust me.”
“Trust you?” he growled. “I should shoot you.”
“And leave her a young widow?” Jack pulled off the sodden shirt, stiff with cold, and spread it to dry. Wearing only his breechclout, he made a dive at Karin.
She squealed as he shot under the furs and hugged her to him like a blast of north wind. “Ooooh. You’re an icicle!”
“You are toasty warm and feel heavenly against these cold bones. Fine place you’ve got here,
NiSawsawh
.”
“I never expected anything like it,” she said.
“His other hunting lodge is even bigger. Say, could you bring me some of that venison, brother? I’m as hungry as that wolf pack of yours. And we could do with a drop of whiskey.”
Shequenor appeared on the verge of running Jack through with the knife. “You do not give strong spirits to a girl.”
Karin startled at the familiar words. “That’s just what Grandpa said, only he calls me lass.”
****
Shequenor sat cross-legged before the fire, his pipe between his teeth. He alone was awake at this early hour, not needing much sleep and lost in thought. The raging grief that had distorted his mind for so long was subsiding so that he could ponder more clearly.
Maybe he’d been too hard on Jack and driven him away without meaning to. It was true a sort of madness had consumed him after his beloved was torn from him. But he was calmer now, better able to reason.
Drawing on his pipe, he blew smoke overhead. The fragrant tobacco, sacred to his people, drifted over him as he sought a solution to the couple’s plight. Seeking answers was alien for one accustomed to wisdom, not questions, but everything had altered with his daughter’s coming. Absolutely everything.
From the first moment he’d seen Karin, even when he’d taken the form of a bear, a change began in his soul. She came upon him like a new wind and with her, the voice of her mother.
Shequenor slanted his eyes at the young couple curled together beneath the pile of furs. Only the side of Karin’s lovely face peeked out from the mound and her glossy hair streamed across them both...black hair, like his. She was Mary’s daughter, yet she also had much of him in her. If he could have only one child, she was worth every tear, every drop of blood he and Mary had sacrificed.
At last, he could gaze on this treasure. All cares seemed smoothed from her peaceful countenance while Jack’s more weathered features creased as if he battled on. Instinctively, he circled a protective arm around her and she nestled nearer to him with a sigh.
Precious little moved Shequenor, but the young lovers touched him in the deepest way. Somehow, Jack had hurdled every challenge he’d thrown at him, and would die for Karin, Shequenor did not doubt. And she would sacrifice herself for Jack. The couple would not be parted without being torn in two. That was plain.
What a change she’d wrought in the self-centered young buck who had gone off during the war and fought with Chief Joseph Brandt and Mohawks, enemy of the Shawnee. But long-held enmities were diminishing and new alliances being forged in the desperate struggle all tribes now faced. The old ways would disappear along with the people who’d walked this ancient land time out of mind. Jack and Karin belonged to the new order he sensed on the horizon, a tumultuous age, but not necessarily a bad one. It would be as they made it. Jack had proven himself in every way. Of Karin’s inherent goodness and ability, Shequenor never had any doubt. In the end, this was all that truly mattered. And to Jack’s credit, he had returned to his adopted brother. Like a soaring hawk, Jack came and went, but always he returned. He was not faithless. In his heart, he’d remained true to Shequenor. Torn, but true.
Shequenor blew smoke circles toward the opening in the lodge he’d built for the two, though they did not realize. He’d foreseen their flight and knew the Long Knives would chase after Jack like angry hornets. These men would not cease to follow as Jack had taken their most precious prize. Danger hovered over the pair like a lengthening shadow. Shequenor alone stood between them and the impending darkness.