Chapter Nine

Joshua paddled hard, his first thoughts—to get to Juliet. Two Eagles matched his grueling pace across the mountains, and then stealing a canoe, they made their way to Onontio’s Mohawk home where, with certainty, the War Chief would return and declare his greatness, displaying his scalps and parading his captives.

Damn the orders from Albany that took him from the Hayes’ farm. The charred ruins gone cold for a week. He shook his head, still unable to get the gruesome massacre out of his mind. He had braced himself for his worst fears, turning the scalped and mutilated corpses over, thankful Juliet and Mary were not among them.

Two Eagles had been adamant it was the work of Onontio, and then followed the tracks of warriors, leading to the capture of the women. It was his best hope the tracks were Mary and Juliet’s and they complied with the War Chief, their deaths fated if they dared to complain or slow the war party’s progress.

They pulled up the canoe against the sandy bank on the village of Tionnontigo. Children squealed a series of whoops to announce their arrival. Out from the lodges, men, women and children poured. The Indians fawned and eager women loitered with flirtatious smiles, none of which Joshua cared the least bit about.

Parting the crowd was Ojistah, the medicine woman and Two Eagles’ aunt. “Too long you have been gone, my sons.” There was censure in her tone.

Joshua scanned the village. Ojistah threaded her arm through Joshua’s, passing several longhouses, the council house and to the center of the village. His heart pounded.

His gaze fell on Juliet and a black crow Jesuit sitting beside her. She was beaten, bruised and her clothes were torn, and her hair spilled in wild abandon down to her hips. His heart pounded.

She was alive.

Their gazes locked. Her dreadful misery was mirrored in her face, but it was the entreaty in her tear-stained eyes that came as sure as if she’d shouted the words.

You’ve come to save me!

Despite the indignities he was sure she had endured, she held her head high. She carried herself like a queen and, for that, he was proud.

He clenched his hands into fists. The dark circles beneath her eyes, pale skin and loss of weight showed her ill-use where she’d likely been pushed beyond endurance on their travels through the forests. Bred in his nature was the protection of women. He cursed Onontio and his band. They would pay for their abuse of Juliet.

He strode to her. Ojistah jerked him back.

“I know who you have come for. Be patient, my son.”

But Joshua didn’t hear her. He ignored the fact he was a guest in the village, bound by custom not to intervene. He ignored everything except the fact that Juliet needed his help and he’d come for her.

He shook off the medicine woman’s hand and started for Juliet. Two Eagles stepped in front of him. “If you want to save her, stay where you are and let my aunt scheme. This is not my village where I could allow you to go to her. Juliet is a captive and will be difficult if not impossible to free. Onontio has been ordered to appear along with the chief.”

Joshua swore, forcing himself to stay rooted and let the matter play out. Helpless. Rage burned in his belly.

Onontio, a mountain of a warrior, his hideous face painted black and red, wormed his way through the crowd. “What do you want, Ojistah?”

“A problem has occurred. You have taken our brother, Joshua’s woman.”

Onontio pounded his chest with his fist. “She is my captive. She will not be taken from me.”

The chief intervened. “Joshua is our brother in blood and to be respected, but Onontio is our War Chief and through great heroism and trial has returned with his prize. He will not be cheated of his conquest.”

Ojistah pulled herself up to full height, her grandson next to her. “Joshua is a brave warrior. His magic is far more powerful than Onontio and cannot be contested.” She raised the giant bear tooth suspended from Morning Sun’s neck to remind them of the bear with evil orenda Joshua had destroyed.

The villagers murmured, pointing at the venerated amulet.

With the unblinking gaze of a hawk, Ojistah cast her gaze over the crowd. “He has done far more to protect the village than—”

“No!” Onontio spat. “I will not let this dog of a white man usurp what is mine.”

The chief nodded his head, considering the medicine woman’s words. “There is much force in what you say, Ojistah. The only way to determine who gets the woman is for Joshua to run the gauntlet. If he survives, he gets the woman.”

Before the echoes of warriors’ shouts, Joshua was pressed to the precipice of two lines. On their guard, warriors eyed him and shuffled close, yet Ojistah’s play on their superstition of his magic made them wary. Because of their fear of his suggested supernatural power, he sincerely hoped he’d have the upper hand.

Still, there were hardened warriors out to make a name for themselves. He inspected the motley group, restless, angry, armed with clubs, tomahawks, sticks, any sort of weapon they could find. Like a pack of curs, they were ready to hunt and tear apart their prey. One warrior with a red jacket possessed a particularly monstrous war club made from the burl of a tree and might crack a man’s skull like a scythe through wheat. Joshua flexed his arms. He had no intentions of falling under any of the weapons.

“Run fast, with your head down,” said Two Eagles.

Joshua danced in place on the ground to loosen up. “Remember when I rescued you from ten armed trappers?”

“There were twenty.” Two Eagles smiled.

“Ten ran away. They didn’t count. I don’t think these seasoned warriors will run.”

“Did you see the fresh bruise on Juliet’s face?” asked Two Eagles.

His blood raged through his veins. Joshua knew what his friend was doing. He faced the ghastly collection of painted faces. They might have scared most men but to Joshua, they were laughable. The War Chief waited at the end of the gauntlet with a particularly nasty war club. The warrior stood two hands taller and broader than Joshua. It’d be like cutting down an oak tree.

Get ready, Onontio. I’m coming for you.

It was a question of force and speed. Joshua was bigger than ninety percent of them and faster, too. And like a roaring wind he came, breaking between the lines of stick-wielding Indians with the fleetness of a hunted animal.

The warriors shrieked and screamed. They pelted him on all sides with cruel cuts and blows. With great force, he used his knees, heels and elbows adroitly, simultaneously swinging his head with great force, that his opponents were knocked violently on both sides. He kept his head down, powerful strikes descended on him. He swerved into the line using his body to unbalance them and at the same time deliver cross punches.

He got his right hand to the back of a warrior’s neck and helped him along with a vicious back hand that shoved him into the next five warriors, the inertia causing them to collapse like a row of dominoes.

Before the opposite line knew what happened, he elbowed one in the throat, sending him sprawling in the dust. A tattooed warrior came at him. Joshua kneed him in the groin and he went down, too. A short bow-legged warrior to his right swung his club in a mighty arc. The swing, too high, took too long. Joshua gave him a right hook to the jaw. Bow-Legs lifted two feet off the ground, teeth went flying and the warrior hit face first in the dust.

He jabbed another in the throat because jabbing was quicker and afterward, breathing became an impossibility. He swung out his leg, tripping several of his competitors, and then kicked them to make sure they stayed there. Some braver warriors closed in. These warriors were at a disadvantage for they had no idea of his pugilist skills as well as his impulse for brawling.

The warrior with the red jacket came at him, his club a great curve which would crush his skull. Like a boxer, his lithe dancing helped him dodge the blow and with a powerful upper cut, knocked Red Jacket out cold.

A tomahawk grazed his ear, he twisted his head, kicked his assailant in the stomach with enough power to cause him to fly backward. The tomahawk wheeled back on his opponent and sliced off part of his ear.

He came to the end of the line and laughed. Warriors drew near and shouted angrily. They had been cheated of their prize. Silence pulsed in the air.

Joshua placed his hands on his knees, breathing, keeping an eye on Onontio. The War Chief drew himself up, his eyes blazing, a knife palmed between his hands. He was ugly, the fresh scar slashed down his sagging cheek made him uglier.

Joshua stumbled forward, glanced over at Juliet, sitting majestic and beautiful. He saw how the tether whipsawed against her tender flesh. The agony she must be enduring choked him and fueled the violent fury within him. “Onontio, you may quit now, saving yourself a humiliation and—your life.”

Onontio saw where his regard lay. “My cock will be rammed into the red-haired witch many nights.”

Cold fire burned in Joshua. He held himself in firm check until his rage cooled.

Cheered by a chorus of Indian shrieks, Onontio said, “Beg for mercy like the dog you are. I promise a slow death.”

They strutted a bizarre dance like two hell-roosters circling each other. Onontio was twice his size; his arms, like an ape, a longer reach. The knife flashed in his hand. Of course, the War Chief’s skill with a knife was as brutal as it was legendary. He would not play fair. Unarmed, Joshua crouched.

Onontio advanced with a slash to the right. His movement came high and Joshua jumped to the side. Without a weapon, the odds were not good leaving him useless to Juliet.

Onontio rushed him, flicked at Joshua’s shoulder amidst the cheers of their audience. “Your death awaits you. You would be wise to rest content with it. But fight if you like. My friends are amused.”

A knife tipped into the earth at Joshua’s feet. He glanced to Two Eagles, his benefactor. Joshua’s hand closed over the hilt and, in an instant, Onontio ran his knife down Joshua’s thigh. Joshua leapt to the side, pain rocketed through him. He numbed the ache in his mind, too busy with survival. Blood poured from his wound.

He pivoted as Onontio circled him, deadly intent glittered in his black eyes. The Indians hooted, tossing their comments; the fight made for their entertainment.

“You seek to fight with me? With your injury, you are like the coyote who sings while he is castrated. You will lose,” said Onontio.

Joshua’s leg tired from loss of blood. Fatigue set in from their frantic journey to Tionnontigo. He strained to stave off the soreness from running the gauntlet, aching in every part of his body. How much longer could he last? He had to end this fight soon.

He smiled, his eyes as hard as granite. “I promise you will learn defeat and crawl into a cave to suck at the tit of an old woman.”

Shivers of laughter ran through the observers.

The jibe riled Onontio. His teeth bared, the Mohawk attacked then drew back with a savage thrust. With a swift, sudden unexpected counter, Joshua drove Onontio back, slicing him on the wrist.

The Indian lunged to take Joshua’s bicep. With a poise and calm born of instinct, he ducked but not quite enough. The knife glanced off his forehead and blood poured down. It burned like hell.

Joshua went down, splayed in the dirt. Someone had tripped him. Onontio advanced. Joshua crouched. At the last possible moment, he thrust himself off the ground, his speed and strength surprising Onontio. With a potent upper cut, he hit the War Chief in the triangle of flesh, dead-on beneath the ribs. Stunned, the giant Mohawk could not get his breath.

With the speed of a cobra, Joshua feinted with his right hand, and with a left hook powerful enough to disembowel a bull, he smashed his fist into Onontio’s face, knocking him out cold. Disgusted, he stepped over Onontio’s lifeless form and didn’t look back. Perhaps he should have killed the War Chief. It would be tiresome to have to fight him all over again.

A nose-ringed brave and his companions gathered around Joshua, menacing in their numbers. He and Two Eagles might do damage on a number of them.

Ojistah shoved through the crowd and stood in front of Joshua.

“You will not touch him. He has shown great bravery surviving the gauntlet. Onontio shamed our people and dared to show his cowardice to take it further, and now he lays punished. Joshua has won the day and we will respect his victory.”

Joshua’s strength flowed away from him like water down a river as he gazed at Juliet. He had saved her from Onontio.

Juliet didn’t realize she was wringing Father Isaac’s good arm until all eyes turned to her. “What did the old woman say? What will they do with my friend, Joshua?”

“You have made Joshua’s acquaintance?” the priest said surprised. “I have met him during his visits to the village. In answer to your question, I could not hear everything over the crowd’s shouting, but from what I have gleaned, Joshua is under the protection of Ojistah and will be in good hands with her healing skills,” Father Devereux said.

Unable to understand why Joshua had to run the violent gauntlet, she scanned the crowd, screaming inside for everyone to leave so she might get a glimpse of him. At last the horde thinned. Two Eagles slung Joshua’s arm over his shoulder, and her heart stopped at the amount of blood pouring from his wounds. She yanked at her bond. “Free me to help him.”

A shadow covered her, and she jerked her head up. Ojistah’s dark eyes grew darker, unfocussed and distant, as she appeared to slip away, deep into a mysterious domain, searching and discerning.

Many women swarmed behind the old woman. Was Juliet to be beaten again? Would she have to endure the gauntlet? Nothing made sense in this world turned upside down.

Ojistah’s eyes cleared, and placing a leathery palm beneath Juliet’s chin, she smiled. An unfathomable lightness emanated from the medicine woman, swirling, brushing against Juliet and catching her in its net. She widened her eyes, basking in the medicine woman’s approval. She could not explain the thin tenuous ribbon binding them, comforting as a hug from Moira.

Ojistah handed a knife to the priest, and then spoke rapidly in her tongue to the women.

Father Devereux cut Juliet’s bonds free. “Ojistah has ordered these women to take you to the river. Afterward, you will be returned to her lodge.”

“Why to the river? Take me to Joshua.”

When the priest perceived her alarm, he helped her rise. “You have nothing to fear.”

Her pleas fell on deaf ears. Pulling her along, the women were cheerful, speaking in their language and smiling. Juliet was mystified at their friendly treatment, a remarkable departure from their earlier conduct.

Up close, she noticed the women’s many ear piercings and necklaces carved from the nacre of fresh water mollusks and shining like rainbows. Where giant oak trees extended their branches like great arms over the sun-dappled river, they removed their clothes. Wading into the water, they motioned for her to follow.

Juliet’s cheeks burned with their lack of modesty. She had been brought up with a certain mode of dress and deportment and possessed highly instilled values not to exhibit any skin. As a midwife, she had been exposed to women during childbirth but they were under sheets and were clothed in a dressing gown.

To be so open and free?

They motioned for her to disrobe. Juliet shook her head and clapped her hands on her tattered skirts and dug her boots into the squishy mud along the river bank. They emerged from the water and surrounded her, their breasts jiggled and dark nipples unnerved her, their long dark hair wet and plastered upon their skins. Unable to understand them, she looked at the sky, the sun beating down on them, anything to avoid their nakedness. They pushed her down into the mud, tugged off her boots and yanked her into the water, splashing and frolicking.

A great blue heron, unhappy with the uproar, lifted from its rookery, beat its great wings and vanished down the river in a thin gray line. Laughing the women took hold of her and tore at her garments.

“No!” said Juliet, pushing away their hands. “Stop it.”

But the women were too many. When one of the women produced a knife, Juliet backed away. Was this a sacrificial ceremony?

Juliet dodged one woman and with her weight upended another. She picked up her skirts, and rushed to the opposite embankment, her sodden clothing like an anchor around her legs. Smiling and chattering, they grabbed hold of her again and guided her to the middle of the river.

The woman with the knife cut away her garments. Her chemise floated on an eddy, her petticoats snared on an upended log, and what was left of her shredded dress caught in the current and drifted downstream. She crossed her arms in front of her breasts to hide her nakedness. What would she wear?

If only she could swim away and hide in the reeds.

Squeezing her eyes tight, she conceded as hands rubbed, starting with her neck, down her back and arms, removing the accumulated dirt and grime. Her nerves danced, her brain raced, and her stomach somersaulted.

She opened her eyes.

The sand was abrasive and reddened her skin. The women reached to the river bottom, scooping up more grit and scrubbing her clean. She pushed their hands away, a worthless endeavor. They were resolved to bathe her.

Juliet stared at a young beautiful pregnant woman, her stomach enormously protracted. She gracefully sat beneath a willow, the branches swayed as if paying her homage. Two women attended her. No doubt the woman was near her time and they planned to assist her if necessary.

An old woman smashed a tuber against a rock and rubbed with her palms vigorously until bubbles appeared, and then nodded her head to the women to hold each of Juliet’s arms at right angles from her body. Trapped, they splayed her legs, allowing the woman to lather the foam over her. As they cared for her, their hands gentle on her bruises, and voices comforting, Juliet felt herself begin to relax, banishing some of her fear.

Hands moved about her waist, and neck and back, and they commenced to sing, a melodious tune that seduced her into its sinuous rhythm. Hands swirled around her breasts, the startling sensation causing her to inhale sharply.

“You must stop. It isn’t proper.” She tried to jerk her arms free but they laughed and held her all the more, the silky soap gliding over her sensitive nipples, her face a hotbed of shame.

The women oohed and aahed, spanning their hands, making note of her hips and nodding their heads in approval of what she supposed was her contrasting white skin and ability to bear children.

They pressed her under the ice-cold water and held her there. Were they trying to drown her? She fought to the top, sputtering and wiped her hair from her eyes. The woman lathered foam through her hair, massaging her scalp.

Oh, to be clean again. They pushed her under again to rinse and ushered her to shore. A blanket was wrapped around her and she was led through the village. Warriors gaped at her as she clutched the blanket to hide her nakedness. She was escorted to a small lodge where they left her.

She pressed aside a deerskin tarp and let her eyes adjust to the dim interior. Heat fired to the roots of her hair. Father Devereux gazed heavenward. Two Eagles grunted. Joshua, laying against furs, stared.

She cleared her throat and pulled her damp hair out. She managed the blanket as much as possible to conceal her state of undress and knelt next to Joshua, smoothing her hand across his brow when all she wanted to do was pull him into her arms and soothe him.

His paleness and loss of blood distressed her. The gash in his head and congealed blood beneath the legging of his thigh alarmed her. The actions of the Indians, Father Devereux’s frustrating translations revealing little, and the day’s events remained a mystery. “Is it a tribal ritual for a white man entering the village to run a gauntlet?”

“Go and guard the lodge, Father Devereux. Tell me if trouble brews,” Ojistah ordered.

His cassock swishing, and cross banging against his chest, the priest clasped his hat and bent his head to exit.

Juliet looked to Two Eagles and pleaded with her eyes. “Mary.”

Ojistah rattled her language and Two Eagles swept out of the lodge. “I have told him to go and get your friend. To tell Red Jacket, I have ordered it.”

Would he be able to rescue Mary?

Her nerves pulled tight. Joshua eyed her strangely, as if trying to gather a sense of time and place. Did he have a head injury? Would he linger in a fog for the rest of his life?

Juliet remained, mesmerized, fascinated, and drawn into those blue orbs.

Beneath the filth and dark beard, a rugged flesh and blood man radiated strength, masculinity and power. Even with his leanness, he dwarfed her.

He raised his hand to touch her and she held his palm against her cheek, felt tears prick her eyes at seeing him like this. “I’m so sorry this has happened to you.”

He swallowed hard, searching to form words, and rasped out, “There is still an ordeal ahead, if you accept—”

“Accept?”

His hand went limp in hers and his head rolled to the side. No answer there.

Suspended from the rafters were lengths of corn braids. Strange face masks adorned the walls, looking inward. Shelves were filled with earthen pots, woven baskets, wooden implements and furs. To have her own lodge spelled Ojistah’s importance.

The medicine woman, heedless of Juliet’s inquiry, sprinkled herbs in two earthen pots, set them on the fire, and then removed a kettle to cool. Rising, Ojistah snatched more herbs from the rafters and added them to the pots.

Joshua’s mud-caked clothing was sopped with black-crusted and fresh red blood. She reached out, then drew her hand away. In her entire existence, nothing had prepared her for this and she cursed Onontio, his warriors and their horrid practices.

To survive, Joshua needed a miracle.

His blue eyes flashed in her mind, wounded eyes, like those of a child stretching out to her for comfort, shadowed with sincerity. Her heart lurched.

“His wounds are many but not dangerous. He is a strong man,” said Ojistah.

Juliet rubbed her eyes from the stinging smoke swirling up to a hole in the roof. “You speak English?”

“The black robe has taught me.” Ojistah stirred her pungent concoction using a wooden spoon with a wolf’s head carving. “I have given Joshua herbs in a sleeping draught which takes a long time to set in and explains his lack of responsiveness. I have also brewed restorative teas of sassafras and witch hazel to heal and give him strength. He will be affected by a deep nourishing sleep and be awake by the evening’s events.”

With a knife, Ojistah cut off his buckskins, revealing an angry gash across his thigh. Ojistah handed her a cloth. Juliet’s blanket dropped. Her face flaming, she pushed aside her modesty and washed away the clotted blood; the coppery smell of fresh blood wafted. Her stomach roiled and whirled. She swallowed down the oncoming waves.

“Is there any other way I can help?”

“Hand me the basket in the corner.” Ojistah boiled balsam and juniper bark, taking out smooth pieces and allowing them to cool.

She filled the gash along Joshua’s thigh with powdered red punk wood. “Hold his shoulders down,” Ojistah commanded.

Juliet pressed her knees into his shoulders, anchoring him with her weight. She tried not to wince as a fiery ember was touched to the punk wood. Light flashed across the angry laceration. Joshua soared off the furs, knocking the two women aside. Ojistah and Juliet pushed him back on the furs where he fell to sleep again.

“The burning stops any bleeding. Now help me bind the wounds. The bark has healing properties and soothes bruises and burns.”

There were no bandages, but the balsam and juniper bark served as a substitute. Ojistah demonstrated and Juliet followed.

Why did she feel a connection with the woman?

“We are both medicine women,” said Ojistah without looking up.

Juliet jerked her head and stared. There it was again, an incomprehensible force Ojistah aroused, a strange knowing that rattled her like it had when Ojistah had clasped her ancient hand beneath Juliet’s chin.

Ojistah raised an eyebrow, the action furrowing wrinkles in her forehead. “Are you not a healer?”

“I am a midwife. How do you know?”

Ojistah smiled. “I know many things. You have great powers breathed by the Great Fire Dragon. Your appearance in this land is nearly as sacred as Sky Woman who fell upon the Great Turtle’s back. Be not afraid, push aside your confusion and accept what gifts come to you with humility and hone them to your best ability.”

Juliet attempted to grasp Ojistah’s obscure message and fumbled with the smooth balsam and juniper bark.

Warm hands were placed upon hers, patiently instructing as they applied the bandages to Joshua until Juliet understood what to do. Ojistah’s touch instilled a baffling, burning light of confidence.

“He will sleep for now. Tonight, he will be strong as an ox.” Ojistah’s voice ministrations mirrored those of a mother for her child, her reassurance, soothing.

“You care for Joshua?” Juliet asked.

With Joshua between them, Ojistah sat cross-legged, and readjusted her silver armbands. “A monster bear, carrying evil orenda and consuming human flesh, terrorized the village for many moons. Numerous attempts by our warriors to hunt and kill the bear were met with death. Foolishly, my young grandson decided to kill the bear.

“The bear trapped him. Joshua happened to have been visiting the village, heard his cries, ran at the bear and killed him with his knife, a single blow to the heart. The bear toppled on both of them. Two Eagles and other braves rolled the massive bear over. My grandson was huddled under Joshua and the two were alive and unharmed.”

Ojistah paused. “Killing the bear when no one else was able, garnered great respect, and made Joshua immortal. My grandson keeps the tooth of the great bear around his neck,” Ojistah smiled. “Saving my grandson made Joshua close to my heart.”

The bear story was true? Not a whimsical yarn?

Ojistah poured an infusion into a wooden bowl. “Brewed willow bark will tamp down any fever and ease his pain.” She lifted Joshua’s head and Juliet spooned in a portion, stroking his throat for him to swallow so he’d not choke.

“Joshua is blood brother to Two Eagles.”

Two Eagles’ blood brother?

“Now for you. I will not take no for an answer.”

Ojistah bathed Juliet’s blistered feet and bruises in a brew of red oak, wild cherry bark and dewberry roots. With a deer bone comb, she untangled Juliet’s long red hair until it shone in bright copper waves. Juliet closed her eyes, feeling the tension leave, marveling at her gentleness.

Suddenly, Ojistah stilled, dropped the bear comb. Juliet glanced behind her, her hair caught in a hard grip. The medicine woman’s eyes rolled back, only milky-white remained. “Behold my vision. I see many villages destroyed, hunger pinching the bellies of our children, the crying of women and children, diseases and the losing of wisdom of our elders for they will die.”

Outside a flock of ravens circled and cawed in a ghastly flapping of wings. Dogs howled, a zephyr gusted, shaking the wigwam. Juliet sat motionless, the harshly whispered words hung, suspended like the coiling smoke. Ojistah’s head dropped then lifted, her chocolate eyes returned to normal yet seized with great fear.

Questions crowded in Juliet’s throat, but before she could speak, a hawk pitched a horrific cry above the smoke hole.

Juliet whispered, “You have had a vision.”

“Very bad. I must think on it.”

A woman entered with a beautiful white doeskin dress decorated with beads and porcupine quills.

“For you,” said Ojistah, discarding any hint of her revelation.

Juliet stood and looked to where Joshua tossed and turned. He was sleeping, wasn’t he? Satisfied his eyes were closed, she dropped the blanket and allowed the woman to place the dress over her head. She gasped at the softness of the dress, and her eyes welled with tears at Ojistah’s generosity. Smooth moccasins were placed on her feet.

With lingering touches, Juliet fidgeted with the beads, obsessed with what Joshua had said before he went into an induced sleep. “What did Joshua mean by my acceptance and why did he have to run the gauntlet?”

“He had to win his bride.”

“His bride?” Was Joshua to marry an Indian woman?

Bracelets clinking, Ojistah touched Juliet’s hair. “He fought for the white captive with hair of fire.”