The Legend of the Bloodstone (12 page)

Maggie met little progress trying to figure him out
, and she was even more confused since he kissed her. Teyas explained he was War Chief of the tribe, a title of great honor to their people. She could see how the tribe respected him, how they deferred to his orders without question.  She noticed how the women flocked to him and how the man rarely stood in a crowd without one of them hanging on him.  He acted kindly and near affectionate with many of them, although she noticed he never disappeared with the woman as the other warriors did.  Maggie was not certain if it was due to her presence or not, nor did she know if she should wish him to.  Teyas shared bits of information with her in their conversations as they worked, and she giggled about how Winn stopped sharing furs with the women since Maggie arrived. It was meant as a compliment, but it gave Maggie pause. She should he happy she was not the focus of his frustrated basal desires, yet she was more afraid of her own urges than she would care to admit.

Winn spent the mornings with the other warriors and attending to his duties, which was fine with her
, especially since he had become much more thoughtful after their conversation of the future. She hardly knew what to say, and the urge to comfort him in some way squeezed her chest so much she could barely speak to him without longing to embrace him.

Maggie worked to learn some of the language and ease her frustration, intrigued by the smooth cadence of their speech and eager to communicate.  Perhaps if she learned more and behaved
as if she was trying to fit in, she could find others who might help her with the Bloodstones.  She suspected Winn had something to do with the way Teyas clammed up anytime Maggie asked about the Bloodstone, and she was sure Winn hid the stone from her.  Maggie spent one morning searching the
yehakin
for it without success.

Maggie sliced her
knife through the venison top to bottom, and as she watched the meat yield, a hand fell on her shoulder.  She swung swiftly around, the blade clutched in her fist, thinking about how Winn had ended the life of a man with such a weapon.

Winn plucked the knife from her hand, his brows arched in challenge. She bit back a scathing retort and took a breath before responding. She crossed her arms and held her hand out to him, palm up.

“I can’t finish without the knife,” she said evenly.  He nodded.

“Teyas can finish. I would walk with you.”

“Are you asking me?”

He sighed,
then nodded.

“Yes. Would you walk?”

Teyas smiled as if the exchange was normal courtship, and resumed her chores without complaint.  To her surprise, Winn returned the knife to her hand and watched as she tucked it into the cord tied around her waist. She followed when he walked away, wondering where he would take her.  He spoke little in last two days other than to ask random questions about her time, which she tried to answer even though it made her more homesick, so this change in his behavior intrigued her.

She noticed eyes of the women follow them
as they walked through the village toward the corral.  Other than Teyas, Maggie was not allowed to spend much time talking to the others.  She knew she had to earn Winn’s trust if she was ever going to make any progress with her plan to leave.

His sorrel horse stood waiting.  Winn helped her up and then mounted behind her in one lithe leap. 
He had not allowed her to ride alone since the attack in the woods. She twisted her hands in the coarse mane and tried to touch him as little as possible, but her attempts were useless when riding bareback with the man.  They balanced much easier when she relaxed and leaned back, and she felt his thighs fit behind hers with less effort.  He rode with one hand looped around her waist, the other guiding the horse with a single hackamore rein around its nose. 

“Where are we going?” she asked.
She closed her eyes to the ripple of pleasure his touch created as he rested his cheek in her hair, and silently chastised herself for being such a ninny.

“A surprise,” he replied simply.

The horse trudged up a loose gravel path which became too steep to climb safely, so they dismounted and walked the rest of the way while Winn led the animal.  The air felt crisp, cool against her skin as a light breeze lifted her winding auburn hair from her shoulders.  She realized they stood on a peak overlooking the village valley. She stood closer to the edge of the slope, amazed at the miles of evergreens covering the valley, scattered by clumps of white-peaked mountaintops.  Maggie twisted her hair into a knot with one hand and closed her eyes as the breeze flowed over her again.  She took a deep breath and let it out slow.  How strange she never noticed before how beautiful this place was!

“You can see all of
Tsenacommacah lands from here,” Winn said. She heard his footsteps and felt his presence behind her when the tiny hairs on her neck rose up, but he did not move to touch her. The scent of leather and sweet evergreen followed him, a scent she recognized now as belonging uniquely to him.

“It’s beautiful,” she replied. 

“It is yours now as well. Our lands are part of you.”

She bit her lip and tried to soften the blow of her answer.

“I-I can’t stay here. I need to go back to my own time, Winn,” she said softly.

She felt his chest brush against her back as he let his breath out in a sigh.

“You have no choice. You are here, and it is done.” The quiet urgency in his voice left little room for compromise. “I give you this…I give you time to forget your sadness. There is no more time.”

“I don’t understand.”

“
Many summers ago a Pale Witch arrived by magic and became one with our people.  She had knowledge of the future, and guided our tribe. On the moon of my birth, she saw a Red Woman arrive with a Bloodstone. She foretold that I would fight the bear to save you, a maiden who time walks.” His voice lowered, and she felt his head rest against her hair for a moment. “She said the Red Woman was no sacrifice, and she was banished for her disloyalty to the Weroance.  When time came near for the prophecy to fulfill, I took all the Bloodstones of my tribe and buried them.  I thought the Legend could be broken.”

His hands slid down on her arms as his lips pressed close to her flushed cheek
over her shoulder.

“
My Uncle is Opechancanough, Great Leader of our tribes, our
Weroance
.  My Uncle has ordered the death of all Time Walkers...it is a great honor for a warrior to bring our Weroance the head of a Time Walker.”

Sh
e shook her head at the truth, the meaning of his words sinking in. A sacrifice? Bound by a Legend, forced to obey by his tribe and his honor, would he follow through by ending her life? For all she knew of him, she believed he felt some care for her, but was it enough to risk the wrath of his Uncle? Even if he knew how to return her to her time, she was certain he would never agree to do so now.

“Did you bring me here to-to kill me?” she whispered.

“No. Only to make you see. There is only one way I know to keep you safe, and that is to keep you with me. I will not let you go.”

Maggie closed her eyes, relief washing through her at the revelation he did not drag her up the mountain as a sacrifice, but by no means comfortable with the rest of his intentions.

“Winn,” she said softly.

“
Can you learn to love this land,
Tentay teh?”
he asked. His warm breath caressed her ear as he spoke, sending a shiver down her spine. “I feel sorrow for your pain. I wish you to love my time like your own. Is there nothing here you could stay for?”

She did not expect the surge of confusion his words brought forth, nor the heat that spread through her body when his hands cir
cled her waist.  Her fist that clenched her hair in a knot fell slowly to her side, and her treacherous body melted back into his embrace.

“
There are things I love about…your land,” she whispered. His lips nuzzled her ear, sending her heart into a frantic dance inside her chest. She knew she was losing herself to his flame, but any notion of resistance was pointless. “Your Uncle wants me dead… is that the only reason you’re doing this?”

He gently tilted her head to the side and closed his warm mouth over hers. She turned
into his arms to meet his kiss, welcoming his tongue as it tasted of cider and smoke, returning his passion with her own. Her hands found his neck, and his fingers twisted in her loose hair.

“No. I would keep you even so.”

She told herself it was only an act, a way to gain his trust. A means to an end. Yet in that moment, her traitorous heart knew she would give it all to him if he asked, and even as he untied the laces of her dress and it fluttered open over her breasts, she wanted more of him. His mouth dipped down, and she trembled as his lips connected, simple need replacing the confusion that held her captive for so many long weeks in his time.

As her
eyes quivered open she glanced over his shoulder, and her body stiffened as she uttered a scream.

Standing behind
them was another Indian male, his body littered with scars, hands perched on his hips as he watched them. Tall and lean, with a long narrow face and a sneer across his lips, his dark eyes met hers, betraying no hint of embarrassment but rather disappointment the show had ended.

At the sound of her scream, Winn
pivoted fast and grabbed his knife, as she scrambled backward. She could only see his back as he stood between her and the stranger, but she saw the way he straightened as he spoke to the man. 

The way the stranger continued to stare at her as he spoke to Winn made her blood run cold.
She recognized little of the exchange as they spoke in their native language, but she heard the restrained anger in the words Winn spoke. Her breath caught in her throat as Winn suddenly breached the space between himself and the intruder, his knife gripped in his white knuckled fist, and the other man raised his spear to his hip in reply.

Winn spoke to the man, his voice low yet even she could hear the threat. Silent for a moment in consideration, the intruder glared at Winn. The man then slowly lowered the spear.

“
Shewanakuxkwe
!” Winn snapped, turning slightly to face her. She did not recognize the word, so she simply ignored it.  She backed away a few paces, waiting until she was sure Winn spoke to her.  When she did not answer, he swung around in a fury and snatched her wrist, his handsome face contorted in a scowl. “
Keptchat
! Come here, now!”

Maggie recognized
the word immediately.  Foolish woman, huh? How dare he speak to her like that after what they had shared moments before? The memory of the first insults between them sharpened her anger, and before she could stem her temper, she lunged at him. She saw his eyes widen before her palm struck his face, and he stood still as a post for a moment before he reacted. The next thing she knew, she was yanked roughly into his arms, his fingers gripping the base of her neck in warning. More from the shame of his sudden degradation than from pain, she cried out and fought his hold.  The gentle touch of his hands only minutes before scored her memory as his fingers dug into her flesh.

“Let go of me
!” she hissed. His fist tightened on her shoulder when she tried to pull away, and she gritted her teeth, vowing she would not let him see how much he hurt her pride. His eyes flashed like glowing coals when she met his stare, and she thought she could feel his body tremble against hers as he spoke.

“Quiet
your foul tongue, woman,” he warned, his words spoke low as she remained captured by his gaze. She started to open her mouth, but the scowl clouded his face and he shook her hard, as if to retain her attention. “Get on the horse,” he growled, and then added as an afterthought, “or I will drag you back to the village.”

With his last
word he released her toward the horse, loosening his hold with more sharp uttered words she did not understand.  She stumbled and nearly fell to her knees, but stubborn resolve to defy him gave strength to her shaking legs and she managed to get back to the horse. Thoughts of escaping him with his own horse were not realized quickly enough, and before she could gather her wits, he leapt behind her on the beast and urged it back toward the village.

***

Nemattanew kept silent as they returned to the village, and Winn was glad.  The woman stiffened and squirmed in his lap, causing him to groan and clasp her to his chest. He made little effort to curb the anger that seared his veins, for he knew if he did then fear would take over, and he was no man to lose himself in such a lowly emotion.  If the other man saw such weakness in him, Winn knew it would be reported to his Uncle. Nemattanew was his Uncle’s most trusted advisor, and if he exposed Winn’s weakness, the decision of Maggie’s punishment could be turned over to the Council.

Nemattanew
would never let Maggie get away with her attack on the favorite nephew of the Weroance. The blasted woman sealed her fate when she raised a hand to him, yet she still sat in his lap, shaking in rage, and he knew she would attack him again should she have the chance.  He regretted the harsh words he spoke to her, but he knew no other way to subdue her when the other warrior challenged him, for as much good it had done. Nemattanew chided him, declaring Winn was no master to the woman, rather he was a slave to her pleasure. The other man challenged how such a warrior could lead their people, if a dirty white woman held so much power over him.