Levi Sparks, captain of the Englestown militia and leading member of the Committee of Safety, raised his hand in a silent command. The men reined their horses to a halt in the centre of the clearing before Ethan’s cabin. “Caine! Ethan Caine! Come on out, we need to talk to you.”
Ethan relaxed his hold on Zara’s shoulders. “Get down,” he whispered, indicating with a jerk of his head the cluster of low-lying brush still thick with brown leaves. “Stay hidden. I’ll see what they’re after.”
Her hands tightened on his arms as he prepared to go.
“It’s all right. Don’t be afraid.” Gently, he extricated himself from her grip, and met her terrified look with a gentle smile. “They won’t hurt you. Trust me.”
But her eyes rendered him powerless to move. Wide and leaf green, they held him spellbound. Despite the urgency, he felt a sudden need to touch her, to smooth away the wisp of silken hair that had fallen over her face.
Then her look of fear melted away. She smiled a fragile smile and shook back the hair in a careless motion. “Ahtety!” She motioned him away.
He snatched up the water bucket and briskly made his way back to the cabin. He did not look back.
“’Morning, Levi, Otis, Jedediah, Billy…” He nodded his greeting as he surveyed the gathering, hoping to glean some insight into their intentions without giving anything away. All wore grim expressions and appeared weary from travel.
“Ethan…” Levi Sparks nodded in return.
In spite of his apprehension, Ethan flashed Sparks a wry smile. “To what do I owe this honour? It’s not often I have visitors of such distinction. Must be powerful important, Levi, to bring out the entire Englestown Committee of Safety.” He forced another sardonic smile. “Don’t tell me you’ve come to apologize for that little matter at Engles’ shop the other day?” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Billy Summer Tree fidgeting with the cloak, and his heart constricted.
Sparks set his jaw and lowered his gaze. “Of course we all regret what happened, Ethan.” Raising his eyes, he locked his sights on Ethan. “But we’re here on official business.”
“Now that sounds serious, Levi!”
Otis McLaren, the blacksmith, locked eyes with Ethan, his face just a trace more sombre than his companions. “We were following some tracks into the ravine on the south bank of the creek. You’ve got traps down there, don’t you?”
Ethan returned McLaren’s look with an amused smile. “I suppose I do. I wasn’t aware there was a law against it.”
Sparks spoke quickly. “We didn’t come to accuse you of anything, Ethan.”
“Well then, if you boys are hunting game, I can tell you straight off, it’s not worth your trouble. Hasn’t been anything larger than a chipmunk down there for weeks.”
“We’re not hunting, Ethan,” Sparks said quickly. “We’re looking for a woman. Rufus Grey’s niece. Seems she’s run off again.”
“Rufus Grey’s niece is none of my concern.” He turned to go inside.
“A moment more o’your time, Ethan!”
Ethan turned back with feigned annoyance and heaved an impatient sigh.
“From the look of things down in the ravine, there appears to have been an accident of sorts. Maybe you heard or saw something.”
“I can’t say I did.”
“There were two sets of tracks leading down into the ravine. And one set coming back up. The tracks going down from the south were definitely hers. We followed them straight from Jedediah’s barn.”
Jedediah perked up at the mention of his name. “It was her all right! Musta spent the night in my hay loft.”
“The other set of tracks were yours, Ethan. They led us here. Isn’t that so, Billy?”
Billy Summer Tree nodded. “Tracks coming up much deeper than ones going down. You carry something, maybe?”
Ethan swallowed hard. “Assuming those were my tracks, I could have been carrying any number of things.”
Sparks shot a grim look at Ethan. “A woman maybe?”
Ethan laughed softly. “A romantic notion, Levi. But I thought you knew me better than that!”
“Have you seen her since that day at Engles’ place?” Frustration and fatigue laced Sparks’s voice. “It’s important you tell us if you’ve seen her.”
“You know I’d be straight with you, Levi. But I’m afraid I can’t help you.”
Otis heeled his mount closer. He eyed Ethan with a suspicious glare. “Then maybe ye can explain them tracks of yours!”
Sparks cast McLaren a quick glance. “Easy, Otis. The man’s not on trial here.”
Ethan paused before speaking, his steady gaze fixed on Otis. “I mind my business,” he said slowly. “I don’t look for trouble. And I don’t owe you or anyone else any explanations.”
McLaren narrowed his eyes. An air of tension quivered over the gathering.
“The creek was froze over some a day or so ago,” Sparks continued in an even tone, removing the edge off the tension. “There are signs of a struggle on the south bank, and no tracks at all on the other side. Billy thinks she mighta fell through the ice.”
Ethan shrugged and turned his gaze away from McLaren. “Then maybe she drowned.”
“That’s possible,” Sparks concurred, “but we can’t discount those tracks of yours. Or the cloak.”
Billy held up the cloak. “Was wet. Very wet. Is torn.” He indicated the frayed edge where it had tangled around the snag and was forced loose. Ethan shuddered at the sight.
“Billy thinks she was wearing it when she fell through the ice. Either she managed to get out of the water by herself or—”
“Billy’s uncommonly astute,” Ethan said, nodding at Billy. “I reckon she wouldn’t have survived long after a fall through the ice…what with nothing to keep her warm.”
“That’s why we have to look inside your cabin, Ethan.”
Caught off guard by Sparks’s request, Ethan stared back, speechless. Then he forced a mirthless laugh. “You don’t honestly think I’d let her in my cabin?”
“We ain’t sayin’ you did.”
“Then why in—”
“Yours is the only place for miles.”
Ethan fought the urge to glance back toward the wooded slope where Zara had hidden herself. “You’re asking a lot of me, aren’t you, Levi?”
“I’m only doing my duty.”
“You know, I’m thinking I’ll have to deny your request.” His blood thundering in his ears, Ethan positioned himself firmly in the doorway. There was no way in Hell he was about to let them inside.
The men looked at each other in confusion.
“Would you care to tell us why?”
Ethan smiled and shrugged. “I reckon it’s just in my nature to be disagreeable.”
“It won’t bode well for you if it’s found out you’re sheltering an accused criminal.”
Ethan caught his breath. His heart pounded hard. “Since when is running away a criminal offence?”
“Since it’s murder.”
“Murder?” Ethan’s mouth went dry. The bucket felt suddenly heavy. He set it down.
“Rufus is dead, Ethan.”
A wave of astonishment rushed through him. “And what makes you so certain she did it?” he said slowly. “Seems to me there’d be any number of likely suspects—I for one—who bear no great love for Rufus.”
“Jabez saw her running from the shed. When he went inside, he found his father on the floor, bleeding from his wounds. Seems she hacked him up fairly good…with a sickle, of all things. He died last night.
“I seen men die in some most inhuman ways,” Sparks continued. “I’d say this rates high among them. The woman’s an incorrigible savage!”
Ethan’s mind whirled. No, it couldn’t be true. Zara was not capable of murder. Not cold-blooded, calculated, brutal murder. Perhaps Rufus drove her to it. He had beaten her, and Lord knew what else he might have done…or tried to do. Perhaps she was only defending herself. He refused to believe it.
“Did Rufus say that she…?”
“Rufus never regained consciousness. All we have is what Jabez told us. And her running is enough to incriminate her ten times over.”
Ethan took a gulp of air. “That’s not proof of anything and you know it.”
“Will you let us in?”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Have you got a warrant to search my house?”
“No, but I can get—”
“If you haven’t got a warrant, then I’m within my rights to deny you entry.”
“I hate to think you’d be so foolish as to harbour a murdering white squaw. She’s dangerous, Ethan. There’s no telling what she’s capable of doing.”
“I’ll keep that in mind if I happen to cross her path.”
“Are you saying she ain’t inside?”
“I’m saying you’ve wasted enough of my time!”
Otis prepared to dismount. “I say we go inside and have a look!”
Sparks held up his hand. “No one goes anywhere without my command!” With his gaze firmly fixed on Ethan, he slid out of his saddle. “I’m asking you,” he said in a quiet tone meant only for Ethan. “We been through some times together, you and me. Not all has been for the best, and we ain’t seen eye-to-eye since…. Still, I’m asking you to put that behind you.” He approached slowly. “Show me inside. We’ll go in, just the two of us…”
“You have no right, Sparks.”
“…and then we’ll bother you no more. But I ain’t leaving until I’m satisfied. You can understand that, can’t you? I’m only doing my duty.”
“You won’t find anything.”
“You’ve always been a man of principle, a man of honour. You’ve always been true to your word, but under the circumstances, I have to see for myself.”
Ethan met Sparks’ resolute stare with a hard look of his own. The man had once been his friend. In the wilder days of his youth he would have died for Levi Sparks and he knew that Levi would have done the same for him. But the bond that had tied them as close as brothers had been dissolved long ago. Regardless, Levi Sparks was still the most honourable man he had ever known.
“Come in, then,” Ethan said quietly. “Alone. And be quick about it! The sooner you tend to your business, the sooner you’ll be gone.”
Ethan allowed Sparks to pass in front of him while he lingered a moment to satisfy himself that the others remained outside. Before turning to follow, he stole a glance at Zara’s hiding place. Nothing moved. Perhaps she had gone. Perhaps it was for the best if he never saw her again.
* * *
Long after Sparks and his men had gone, Ethan sat staring into the empty hearth. All was quiet. Too quiet. And still he sat, his thoughts centreded on the silence and the buzzing uncertainty that felt ready to explode inside him.
If Levi had noticed anything suspicious in his cabin, he said nothing. Although all appeared to be in order, there was something disturbing in the way Sparks conducted his search, inspecting every corner, every crevice as if it contained conclusive evidence of Zara’s presence.
He couldn’t be certain that Sparks had not seen through his deception. He’d never been adept at lying. Perhaps Sparks was aware of that. Or perhaps Levi was attuned to something resonating in the silence between them, an unspoken anxiety that had played on Ethan’s nerves like a fiddler’s bow. Perhaps Sparks had been aware of the subtle signs of the woman’s presence, the trace of her scent that yet lingered over the room—or was it just his imagination? Maybe he sensed the way his mind vibrated with images of her, the way his body responded to those images, the way he longed for her. The way his moral sense raged at having to lie to protect her.
But Sparks had said nothing. Not even a hint of an expression of doubt had crossed his stolid features. Only right before he took his leave did he speak.
“There’s been talk in the town,” Sparks had confided. “There’s some would take the law into their own hands, far as this woman’s concerned. They’re saying a rope’s too good to waste on hanging her. They’ll be remembering the massacres at Cherry Valley and Andrustown. They’ll be remembering the destruction of Cobleskill back in ’seventy-eight. They’ve had their ears and their heads filled with what Otis and others have been saying, that come spring Brant and his Iroquois’ll be looking to take their revenge for Sullivan’s victories. They’ll be itching for a scapegoat.
“Just a word of warning to you, Ethan. On the chance you run into this woman, you’ll be remembering what I told you. Better I find her before some hothead does.”
Sitting by his fading hearth, Ethan told himself to forget her. The whole situation was ill fated from the start. He should consider himself fortunate that it ended before it began, before he involved himself with a woman as predictable as a tame wolf…and probably just as reliable. A woman who, for all her appeal and her beauty, he could not fathom, perhaps could never fathom. She was of a different world…although to look at her…
Could she have murdered Rufus?
“Damn!” He pushed himself up from his chair and began to pace.
How unlike him, to lose himself so utterly in his thoughts. To become soft in the head over a woman! Living alone did that to a man, he rationalized. It was only to be expected. She could have been any woman. Any woman at all with a modicum of appeal, and yet…
“Damn her to hell…and damn me!” Ethan grabbed his rifle, shot pouch and powder horn from their place over the mantel and stalked from the cabin. He had work to do.
* * *
Hidden among the autumn-coloured leaves, Zara had thought about running. It would have been a simple matter of slipping away unseen, down the slope to the creek and following its course. She did not care where it led her, for one thing was certain in her mind: she would never return to Englestown and her uncle’s home. Never. She would take her chances wandering alone, risking death from exposure and starvation…or worse…before those men, or anyone else, took her back to Rufus Grey.
But she did not move. Partly because she hurt all over and ached with fatigue, and partly because there was no need. The men were soon gone. She heard them turn their horses around and head back in the direction from which they had come. She listened until the renewed chatter of birds and the wind in the barren treetops had swallowed all sound of their passage. She listened for a long while following.
And still she remained pressed close to the ground. In her mind she had made herself small to avoid detection, as small as the little people, the Jonh-geh-onh, who dwell beneath the earth. There was comfort in being so small as to be overlooked, so much so that she ceased being afraid and a feeling of complete tranquility stole over her. When at last she raised her head to look around, she was surprised to see that the sun had climbed to its highest pinnacle in the sky.
Once, long ago, a day had passed like that, in an instant. Then, as now, she had hidden herself from white men intent on taking her away against her wishes.
She had been but a small child when the Englishmen had come to the village to trade for pelts. A few of them claimed to have come as emissaries from Sir William Johnson and spent time with the chiefs in the council house. One of them had come to her the following morning when she was alone by the river. He called her by her white name and told her he planned to take her with him to Fort Niagara when he left the village. He would return her, he said, to her people, who loved her and missed her dearly.
When she refused to go, the man grew angry. He frightened her. She ran from him to her mother’s lodge, where she learned of the rewards that had been offered by the Great White Father across the sea for the return of white captives. Her mother asked if she wished to stay among The People or go to the fort. “You are my family,” Zara replied, “I have no other. I wish to stay here with you.”
The following morning, when she went to the river to bathe and recite her morning prayers, the man leaped out from the bushes where he had hidden himself. He carried ropes to bind her, and her cries of protest did not deter him. He was determined to collect his reward.
She could not run for the safety of her mother’s lodge, for the man blocked her way. So she ran away. She ran blindly, swiftly. And he followed. He chased her far, far from the village, into the fields of tall, waving corn and beans and squash by the edge of the forest. There she fell to the ground and could run no more.
Pressed close to the earth, screened all around by the sheltering corn, she heard the man draw close, and then his steps faded away. Too frightened to move, she kept herself still and close to the ground. She had tried not to breathe, not to think for fear that the sounds of her thoughts would give her away. And when she heard the voices of her brothers and men from the village, she saw that the sun had completed its journey across the sky. The day had passed without her being aware.
Okteondon, her oldest brother, laughed as he carried her home on his shoulders. “You were made small by the Jongies,” he said. “Our Jiiwi has a powerful orenda. The Jongies have protected her from harm!”
As relief over the men’s departure coursed through her body, Zara smiled sadly at the thoughts flooding her mind. How she missed her brothers! All but one, Hahjanoh, the youngest, were dead, killed in the terrible war that had already taken many brave young men and destroyed many of their villages. She missed her sisters and her old mother…and Nichus.
But when she thought of Nichus, her-husband-no-longer-her-husband, she felt neither a pang of longing for his closeness nor a great desire to be with him. When she saw his face in her mind, it was not the face of the man she had slept with for the many seasons of their union, nor the man who had provided all the meat and skins her family ever required. It was not the face of a man who prompted warm feelings to envelop her heart and excite her blood and inflame her senses. It had never been that way with him. She missed him as a cherished friend, a brother. Suddenly, she realized that there had never been an abundance of passion between them. Not in the way another man’s touch had inspired her to imagine.
Ethancaine…. The men from the settlement had called him by name. Ethancaine. Twice he had placed himself between her and danger. Twice now she owed him her life and her gratitude. Ethancaine was the reason she had not run.
Tahahiawakon, The Creator, had not abandoned her. Perhaps, as Okteondon had said, her orenda, her guardian spirit, was strong. In spite of the accusations heaped upon her prior to her banishment—that she was ote-gonh, possessed of evil, a witch—The Creator knew her heart. Tahahiawakon had sent her a dream in which Ethancaine, in the form of a great white bird, protected her and took away her fear. Now it was for her to discover how The Creator wished her to repay this man for his kindness.
The cabin was deserted when she returned with her load of firewood. He had gone, perhaps to hunt, for his weapon was also gone. How long since his departure and how long before his return, she could not presume. Perhaps he would return before the sun went down. Perhaps he would be gone for many suns. The men of her village often fared well in the Moon of the Hunt. As a child she waited with the other women, helping her mother and her sisters prepare the corn and the beans and the squash for the long winter ahead. There had always been much to do and the time passed swiftly.
But here she was alone. She could not remember a time when she did not have others about, did not have something with which to occupy herself. The silence disconcerted her, prompting worrisome thoughts to prey on her mind. Every minute sound reverberated on the stillness, becoming a cry of warning that the men from the settlement had come back.
She began to sing, softly at first, until gradually her voice gained in confidence, drowning out all untoward visitings of the mind.
* * *
Ethan would not trouble himself to set any new traps. Neither would he bother baiting the old ones. During the days in which he had neglected them, the snares remained untouched. The presence of wolves had reduced the likelihood of a catch in all but one, and what had once been a rabbit was nothing more than a worthless carcass after they had finished tearing it up.
On his return home through the woods, he saw a rabbit and a few squirrels. But they were hardly worth the shot he would need to take them down. So he continued on his way with thoughts of salt pork for his supper…an endless array of long winter nights with salt pork and salted venison and dried fish to supplement the dried beans and squash and corn he had set aside. If he were sensible and apportioned his rations with prudence, the food would last.
He had not intended to go down into the ravine, but he found himself there despite himself, inspecting the footprints that had so ignited the interest and curiosity of Sparks and his men. The snow on the steep slope was still considerable, although in most places it had melted completely or dissolved into insubstantial patches. Here and there, he discerned traces of his passage down the slope—where he had briefly lost his footing, where he had dug a foothold to better view what he first had reckoned to be a deer at the bank of the creek.
He saw her in his mind as she had appeared at that moment. How he had alarmed her when he cried out in warning. Her face, so indelibly etched on his memory, as she turned in that one startled instant before the ice gave way beneath her.
It seemed an eternity had intervened between that moment and now. A mere two days. Two days of watching her sleep, of tending her wounds, of touching her, of imagining what it would be like to hold her in his arms and make love to her, what it would be like to have her with him as part of his life. Even as he approached his cabin in the fading light, his heart ached at the prospect of facing an empty hearth, of passing the rest of his life in solitude.
At the same time, thoughts of Rufus Grey’s mangled body made him wonder if, perhaps, Fate had spared him the same bloody end.
But the house was not empty. He sensed it immediately in the scent of smoke and the faint essence of a savoury aroma flavoring the air. Although his better judgment warned him to exercise caution, his heart strained with anticipation…and foreboding.
He entered his cabin without a sound.
Sitting on the floor by the hearth light, her back to the door, Zara busied herself with plaiting strips of bark into a long cord. Rapt in her work, she did not hear him come in. He watched her in silence, listening to her song, a softly voiced series of repeated sounds without apparent melody but hauntingly rhythmic and oddly calming. After a moment, as the flames bent under the draft from the open door and the chill touched her back, she warily raised her head. Her voice faded into the stillness. She tensed, and turned slowly, as if afraid to confront whatever it was in the doorway.
The look of anxiety with which she greeted him immediately transformed into a smile. He froze with apprehension, as she scrambled to her feet and made an impulsive move toward him.
“Skennoh, Ethancaine!”
A hint of joy brightened her voice. Delight danced in her eyes, but it faded when she met the look with which he regarded her. She stopped abruptly. In the warmth of the firelight, her face coloured as she averted her eyes, and the trace of a timid smile trembled over her lips. She drew in a breath and lifted her head to gaze at him with a look that made his heart race.
Uncertainty replaced her look of joy. Her face once more grew taut. Hands extended palms up, she appeared to grasp at something unseen. He felt the struggle raging within her, just as he had felt it earlier in the day, before the arrival of Sparks and his men. He made a spontaneous move toward her, then stopped himself, all the while observing her with a cautious eye.
She seemed to sense his misgivings. How could she not? Had he a glass in view he would have seen what she, no doubt, had seen. How he scrutinized her from afar with a look of uncertainty. There was no smile on his part to echo her smile of welcome. No look of pleasure at seeing her. He had said nothing of the fire she had made, or the appealing smell of the stew filling the room. And in response, the delight fled from her eyes.
“Ethancaine…not…pleased?”
Her voice was softer than a whisper. If not for the movement of her lips, he would not have believed she had spoken at all.
“That’s not it at all. I—” Stunned, Ethan regarded her while the realization slowly overwhelmed his awareness. “Good Lord!” Full understanding struck him with the force of a blow. “You…you speak English!”
She nodded slowly, peering at him from under her thick eyelashes.
“But you…?”
“Is…hard…for me.” Her voice was as strained as her eyes were expressive, her hands grasping at air. The effort to speak and make herself understood commanded all of her concentration. “Agasha-aw…I…try…not forget.”
He closed the door and stumbled past her, then lowered himself into his chair at the table. With his gaze fixed on the tabletop, he raked his hands through his hair. “I thought you had gone.”
“Ethancaine…not pleased?” she repeated, her voice low and uncertain.
The way she met his bewildered stare, with a wide-eyed, questioning look, she seemed totally guileless. Either she was well schooled in the art of deception, or clearly she had no notion of the gravity of her situation. Either she had no moral sense at all, or she was as innocent as she appeared, as innocent as he wished her to be.