By Love Alone Read online

  If the Shawnee took arms against the English soldiers, the Iroquois would consider it open season on the Shawnee and their allies, the Delaware and Nanicoke. The Iroquois had claimed sovereignty over the Lenni Lenape nation. It was a one-sided claim and dubious at best. There was no love lost between the two peoples. They were of different races and spoke a different language.

  The comers of Pride's mouth turned up in a wry smile. Any human that crossed his path would be a potential enemy. The Shawnee might shoot him for being white, the English for being a red savage, and the Iroquois for fun. The center of his back itched as he imagined an arrow sinking to the bone. Damn Kate Storm to hell! The little blue-eyed bitch had ruined his life. No matter what happened when he caught up with her, he was bound to lose.

  The dead Shawnee brave had been of his brother's band. Pride knew where the summer camp had been a year ago. He hoped they had not moved. If Kate wasn't there, he was certain some of the tribe would tell him where to find her. At least she'd had the good sense to be captured by Shawnee instead of Iroquois. He wondered if she realized just how lucky she was.

  * * *

  Trying not to gag, Kate took a handful of mashed deer brains from the birchbark container and smeared it on the hide. The deerskin was stretched out and pegged to the ground. Kate knelt beside it, following Wabethe's instructions. Pride had once told her that each animal, including a human being, had just enough brain matter to tan its own hide. She'd doubted his story. Now it seemed somewhat more plausible.

  The brains must be rubbed into the skin now that it had been scraped clean of all blood and flesh. It was a slow, tedious job. The smell sickened her, and once, to the delight of the children crowded around, Kate had had to run into the woods and vomit. Using a piece of wood, she worked the brains deep into each section of the deer hide. Her clothes were soaked with the greasy mess, and she'd probably never get the smell out of her hands and hair.

  The next step was to pull the hide back and forth over a tree branch, breaking up the stiff nature of the green skin. It would require hours of rubbing, twisting, and pulling to turn it into a soft beautiful leather. Kate was beginning to value her beaded moccasins.

  Wabethe worked nearby on a spotted fawnskin. It would provide a wrap for her baby. The hide was much thinner and more delicate than the one Kate was doing. It took a light hand so the skin would not be torn and ruined. The baby, tied safely in the cradle board, hung from a tree branch overhead, asleep.

  "You make much anger," Wabethe said. "Tanning skins must be done. Is squaw work. Why you anger? English squaw no work?"

  "Englishwomen don't do this kind of work," Kate grumbled. "They sew and cook and tend the children. This makes me sick."

  The children giggled. A girl reached out and tugged at Kate's hair, then said something in Shawnee. Kate frowned at her and she jumped back.

  "She want know how you make hair color of winter grass," Wabethe explained. "She think it not be real."

  "A wig? No, it's not a wig. Tell her I was born like that."

  Wabethe translated. The girl retreated and yelled something back. "She say she glad she have proper hair, not grass on head."

  Two other women moved shyly nearer to sit under the tree. One brought a basket she was weaving, the other beadwork. The basketmaker had gray streaks in her dark hair. The younger woman looked as though she might be pregnant. They spoke to Wabethe softly and she nodded.

  "Tell them I won't bite," Kate said.

  "They friend. Unsoma my sister." She pointed to the girl with swelling breasts and round stomach. "Methotho me..." Wabethe shook her head and shrugged. The degree of kinship was too difficult to explain with her limited vocabulary. "Methotho."

  The older woman smiled at her name, and Kate smiled back. Despite the language and racial barriers, these women did not seem so very different from those she had known at home.

  Unsoma called to a chubby little girl about three. She came running, a handful of broken flowers in her tiny brown hands. She wore nothing but a string of silver beads. Unsoma took her on her lap and nuzzled the back of her neck. The child giggled and snuggled down.

  "Unsoma want boy baby," Wabethe explained. "She lose son. Lose man. Iroquois."

  "They killed her husband and child?"

  "Kill man. Take scalp. Steal son. No see no more." She pointed north. "Iroquois country. Much cold. Bad."

  "That's terrible," Kate said sympathetically. "At least she has the little girl. Does she have a new husband?"

  Wabethe nodded. "New man. Squithetha. Squithetha born Wabethe. Sister no man, no baby. Much tear. Wabethe sister. Wabethe give Squithetha."

  "You gave her your child?" Kate looked at her friend in disbelief. "Squithetha is your daughter and you gave her to Unsoma?"

  "No Wabethe. Unsoma."

  Kate continued to rub at the deer hide. She would never understand these people. To give away such a beautiful child... Wabethe seemed to dote on her son. Perhaps girl children were worth little among the Shawnee.

  Two boys ran by with a pet crow on a string. Methotho waved toward the cornfield and scolded. She got up and took a few steps in their direction. They nodded and ran back to the field. The woman turned to Kate and asked a question.

  "She wants to know are you woman kill Shawnee brave?" Wabethe chattered on in Shawnee for a few moments then said in English, "I tell her yes. She say you have strange eyes. You stupid. No do hides good. She say brave woman. She no care you stupid. She like."

  "She doesn't care that I killed a man from this village?"

  "Methotho care. Methotho sister son. You kill."

  "I killed her sister's son and she likes me?"

  Wabethe sighed in exasperation. "You Englisher." The other two women understood and nodded in agreement. "You Englisher. Shawnee come. You fight. Shawnee fight. Kat kill Shawnee." She accompanied her speech with hand motions. "Englisher come Shawnee camp. Shawnee fight. Kill Englisher if can. You see? Kat warrior woman. Shawnee no hate brave woman. Like."

  Kate looked away. Nothing here was as it should be, as she thought it would be. How could these gentle, laughing women condone the torture she had witnessed with her own eyes? She pushed the wooden tool back and forth across the deerhide. No wonder she had been unable to comprehend Pride Ashton. His heritage was as foreign to hers as though he had been born on some distant star. How could she ever have believed that they might live together as man and wife?

  She was startled from her musings by Tschi's hard grip on her shoulder. She whirled to face him, coming to her feet like a cat. His open-handed slap caught her across the face and brought tears to her eyes.

  "Lazy squaw! I send you to work and you do nothing!" he accused. The woman beside him laughed, then her eyes narrowed and she pointed to Kate's moccasins. She spoke rapidly to Tschi in Shawnee and he nodded. "Take those off," he ordered.

  Sullenly, Kate did as she was bid. Her face stung from his blow, and this was not the place to challenge his authority, in full view of the village. She recognized the woman. It was the one Wabethe had said wished to be Tschi's wife.

  Eagerly, she snatched up the beaded moccasins and put them on, discarding her own worn ones. Smirking, she held out first one foot then the other.

  "She says it is not fitting for a slave to have better moccasins than a true Shawnee woman," Tschi translated. "What say you. Panther Woman?"

  "I say let the slut have them if she wishes. If she must rely on the castoffs of others, I can only pity her."

  Wabethe gave a little coo of approval and whispered to the watching women what the Englisher had said. There was a twitter of laughter and Tschi's features hardened.

  "Have you nothing better to do than to pry into the affairs of others?" he snarled.

  The three gathered up their work quickly. "Why is it?" Wabethe asked innocently in Shawnee, "that a man will often take on two women, when he cannot handle one?" Her friends covered their faces to hide their amusement. Kate could not understand the language, but t
he meaning was clear.

  "Such a man," Methotho added, "shows a fool's face to all the world." The three women walked off, giggling.

  Kate forced a straight face. If she were here long, she must learn the tongue. It was certain these women were not the obedient drabs she believed them to be.

  Tschi shouted at the remaining woman angrily and she burst into tears and ran off toward her wigwam. "What have you done with my deer hide," he demanded of Kate. "If you have ruined it..."

  "I have not ruined it." She stood beside the skin defiantly. If he hit her again, so be it. He could never crush her spirit. All it did was to give her more reason to take Tschi's life.

  "Fetch wood for my fire! My belly is empty and I find you gossiping with idle women. You forget your place, slave!" He gave her a shove. "You will cook my food quickly or I will beat you for all to see."

  "I'll cook your food," Kate agreed meekly. Her skill in cooking over an open fire was such that Tschi's would be the greater punishment this night. She kept her eyes downcast.

  "Hmmpt," he grunted. "See you move swiftly, lazy one! I am a man who does not like to wait." He jerked at the tether. "You are taming, Englisher, as I said you would. Soon you will crawl to my robe in the darkness."

  "Like hell I will," she whispered, between clenched teeth. It would not be enough for Tschi to die; he must die slowly. God, she thought, I am turning into a savage!

  She was returning to the wigwam with an armload of firewood when a strange brave stepped in front of her and held up his hand. She looked at him uncertainly.

  "Peace, English squaw. I mean you no harm. I am husband to Wabethe. She sends a message she had not words to say. Be strong. Tschi may beat you. As a slave you may be beaten... or he may take your life. But he may not take you as a man takes a woman. It is not the Shawnee way. A woman must give herself." He stepped back to let her pass. "I hear you are the woman of Chobeka Illenaqui. If this is so, pray he does not come. There is no welcome for him in this camp. He will find only death."

  Kate stumbled and would have fallen, but he caught her. "Thank you," she murmured. Wabethe had sent the message to ease her heart. Instead, it had terrified her. She had not believed that Pride would be in danger coming here. These were his Shawnee, his mother's people. If Wabethe's man spoke the truth, she might now be the cause of Pride's death.

  Tschi threw two rabbits at her when she entered the dwelling. Both had their heads and skin. Kate dangled the limp bodies distastefully. "What am I supposed to do with these?"

  "Cook them, stupid woman." He raised a hand threateningly and Kate flinched. Tschi laughed. "You learn quickly, English. Soon we begin lessons in how to please your master." He caught at the tether and pulled her to him. She could not control the trembling. He pulled his knife and slashed the leather knot at the back of the metal collar. "Do not run. If you run, Tschi's knife will cut here." He brushed the blade across the back of her left knee. "And you will never run again."

  Kate's mouth was dry. The fear tasted bitter. She backed away from the man slowly, the rabbits clutched in her hand. Somehow, even when the Indian had threatened to blind her, she had not believed him. This she knew he was capable of doing. If he cut the tendons in her knee, she would be a cripple for the rest of her life. That he could say it coldly, without anger, was even more terrifying. She had prided herself all her life on her bravery, on fearing no man. Ashamed, she backed from the lodge.

  She carried the rabbits toward the woods, then realized he had given her no knife. How was she supposed to clean and skin them? To return to the wigwam and ask for a knife would be humiliating. Tschi would laugh at her again. Unable to decide what to do, she kept walking.

  It was beginning to get dark. Cooking smells were drifting from the houses; mothers were calling their children home to eat. A village cur barked halfheartedly at Kate, then turned to chase another dog. Was she beginning to smell like a Shawnee? She looked around for a familiar face. If she saw Wabethe, she could explain her problem.

  Something glinted from a ridge above the village; Kate caught a brief glimpse of a sentry. No wonder Tschi was not concerned about letting her roam the camp. There were armed guards posted in a half-dozen spots. Wabethe had pointed out two to her the day before. Within the camp, no one was visible but a strange warrior wrapping his horse's foreleg and an old woman.

  Kate entered the trees near the cornfield. Even the crow hunters had gone home for the day. She pushed through the low-hanging white pines until she came to a fallen log and sat down. What the hell was she going to do now? She threw the rabbits to the ground and kicked them.

  A hand clamped over her mouth. Kate panicked and lashed out wildly at her assailant. She was dragged over the log and thrown to the ground. A man's body pinned her down with the full force of his weight and a low voice hissed in her ear. "Hold your tongue, Kate! I'll cut it out if I have to!"

  The pressure on her mouth eased and she tried to speak. "Pri—" The hand tightened and fingers pinched her nose, cutting off all breath.

  "I said shut up."

  She made what she thought was an affirmative mumble and he took his hand away. "Pride? What are you doing here?"

  "What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded angrily.

  Kate stared at him, wide-eyed. No wonder she had not known him. Naked but for a breechcloth, his dark skin tanned by the sun to a tawny hue, Pride looked as much a savage as any Shawnee warrior. "I was captured. Your brother brought me here." She tried to pull free. "Well, are you going to let me up or not?"

  "Should I? When we last parted you were less than gentle."

  "I could have easily killed you!" she flared. "But I didn't."

  "You may well live to regret it." He lifted her to her feet, keeping one iron hand around her wrist. "You've endangered both our lives and put Ashton Hall in jeopardy by your treachery. You've had your chances, Kate. They're all used up. From now on the game is mine," he said bitterly.

  "You shouldn't have come. They'll kill you. Tschi—"

  "My big brother has overstepped his bounds. No one steals from me, not even Tschi." Pride drew her farther into the pine grove, then pinned her to a tree with his powerful arms. He stood barely inches away, not touching her, using his body as a barrier. "No man could do what you did and live!"

  Kate could not see his eyes in the shadows, but she felt their intensity and mentally retreated. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

  "Sorry you did it, or sorry you were caught?"

  "I'm sorry I hurt you. I didn't want to, but I didn't know any other way to get free." A chill seeped through her as she realized how similiar Pride's voice was to his brother's. "When I found out you'd killed Geoffrey, I..."

  "Enough! We've no time to listen to your excuses."

  "Are you taking me out of here?"

  Pride laughed. "And how do you suggest I get you past the lookouts?"

  "How did you get past them in the first place?" Kate bit at her lower lip. He had come to rescue her, hadn't he?

  "Have you slept with him?"

  "Who?"

  "Tschi. Who the hell do you think I'm talking about?" Pride laid his hand on her throat almost tenderly. Kate clenched her teeth to keep them from chattering. "If you have, you'd better tell me."

  "No!" She shook her head. "No, of course I haven't! He's... he's an animal!"

  "Tschi?" Pride forced a sarcastic chuckle. "I've heard him called a lot of things by women, but never an animal. I'd think his charms would be attractive to you."

  "No. I wouldn't let him. He threatened me but..." She began to weep. "How could you think I'd..."

  "Save the tears, Kate, for someone who cares." His fingers tightened around her neck. "You've deceived me from the first minute I laid eyes on you. Well, I learn slowly, but I eventually catch on."

  "If you feel that way about me, why did you come here?"

  "Because you're mine and I don't let go of what's mine!"

  "Let go of me, you're hurting me." Pride stepped back and
released her. "I don't know how you got here or why you're dressed like that, but I'm still damn glad to see you," Kate admitted. She rubbed her neck. "Can you get this thing off me?"

  "Why? I should have thought of it." He examined the metal collar. "It will have to be unlocked or filed off. I don't have time to bother with it now." He pulled her around to face him. "How many braves are in the village? Has there been war talk? Are the men meeting at night in the big house?"

  "Yes, they've been meeting every night. I could hear them arguing. There were drums, but not drums like the first. When Tschi first brought me here, they had an Iroquois captive. They murdered him. It was terrible!"

  "It usually is." He shrugged. "The Iroquois and Shawnee are bitter enemies—this year. You'd see worse in an Iroquois village."

  "No. It couldn't be. They burned him and shot him full of arrows."

  "Did they cut him open and roast his heart? No?" Pride snickered at her shudder. "The Iroquois are eaters of men. It's no tall tale, Kate. I've seen it. The Iroquois believe they can take on the qualities of a brave enemy by eating his vital parts. Perhaps they're right. The Iroquois are as fearless as they come."

  "I don't know how many men are in the village. Tschi doesn't tell me anything."

  "You're no better at spying than you are at women's work. I'll have to find out for myself, before I confront Tschi. Go back to the wigwam and don't let on you've seen me. That way." He pointed.

  "You can't leave me!"

  "Can't I?" Pride picked up his rifle.

  "No. Wait. I can't go back. He'll beat me again." Kate grabbed Pride's arm and explained about the rabbits.

  "And what do you expect me to do about it?"

  "Couldn't you clean them for me, take off the heads? Please, Pride."

  "You want me to risk being seen to skin rabbits? For God's sake, woman! Where are they?"

  Kate ran back and picked up the discarded animals. She brought them back, half-expecting him to be gone. "Pride?" Her voice was near breaking. "Please."

  "Give them here." He stepped from the shadows, knife in hand. Squatting, he made quick work of the job and handed back the rabbits. "Wash them at the river, cut them into pieces, and broil them over the flames."