Passion's Vision

1-928670-39-3 Passion's Vision Mary Adair 1/11/2001 Awe-Struck E-Books Amour

Table Of Contents PROLOGUE CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN CHAPTER ELEVEN CHAPTER TWELVE CHAPTER THIRTEEN CHAPTER FOURTEEN CHAPTER FIFTEEN CHAPTER SIXTEEN CHAPTER SEVENTEEN CHAPTER EIGHTEEN CHAPTER NINETEEN

-Passion's VisionHistorical Romance By Mary Adair Published by Awe-Struck E-Books Copyright ©1999 ISBN: 1-928670-39-3 Though this story was inspired by actual events, it is a work of fiction. And the angel of God spake unto me in a dream... And he said, "Lift up now thine eyes, and see..." Genesis 31: 11-12 K.J.V.

PROLOGUE New Moon raised her arms high as she stretched up and out to the sky. A chill ran along her body and she shivered. She lowered her arms and wrapped them about her as she looked out at the tops of the pines and down to the valley below. She had been here, on this ledge of her beloved mountain, for two days. She heard the screech of an eagle and looked up. Her husband had called her, "His little sparrow with the heart of an eagle." If only he were here with her. But he wasn't, and so soon the other would arrive. If only she could soar like an eagle now, but she couldn't. So like the tiny sparrow, she will not be able to escape her fate. In her vision she had seen a child growing within her belly. A tear ran down her cheek as she placed a hand to her flat stomach. As much as she had wanted to, as much as she had asked the Great Spirit, she had not been able to give him a child. Was her vision truly from the Great Spirit, or was all of this a cruel joke from the Trickster? What could it all mean? What would it mean to her and to her people? New Moon made her way down the side of the mountain to where her brother, Chief Dancing Cloud, waited. "Did the vision come to you?" He sounded tired, as tired as New Moon felt. She massaged the tense muscles at the back of her neck. What lay ahead would not be easy. "Yes," she answered and would have walked past but he put out a hand to stop her. "The spirits tell you that there will be another. Your heart should be happy," he insisted. Logic! Her brother was always so logical. She looked past Dancing Cloud to the dawning horizon and blinked in an effort to control the tears that threatened once again to come to her eyes. "Yes, the spirits say he is coming. But I say to you, brother, I will not belong to another. My spirit is too strong. If this were not so I would have been able to give my husband a son." She drew in a ragged, steadying breath. "I am a warrior." Her resolve strengthened as her spine stiffened. Just saying the words gave her power. "If he had allowed me to go with him, he would not have died. I would have saved him from the White renegade." New Moon knew that Cloud felt her pain and anger as deeply as he felt his own. Yet his argument was always the same. The damp, cool breeze caressed her skin as the direction of the wind changed, and she shivered.

"You are a warrior, my sister," he agreed. "But you are also a woman. You could not have saved your husband. The spirits were ready for him to come to them." He pointed to her bandaged wrist. "It is not good that you still wear bandages on your arms. Your time of mourning is over. It is time to let the sad song from your heart. Think about the one the spirits are sending to you. That will make your song turn happy." New Moon looked at him. "I have been thinking about the one the spirits say is coming," she answered before he had a chance to speak again. "I will belong to no man, my brother, and certainly never to a white man!" Surprise leaped into Cloud's eyes. "A white man?" "Yes." She felt better now. Her brother would understand. "The spirits send a white man. A man with hair the color of the great river's clay and eyes the color of the summer sky. I will not belong to him!" New Moon stomped past, leaving Cloud to watch her retreating form while he wrestled with his own surprise and growing dread.

CHAPTER ONE 1734 Appalachian Mountains, Upper South Carolina "Damn it, Thomas, I thought you said we were in Cherokee Territory and would have safe passage!" James Fitz-Gerald yelled above the bloodcurdling whoops of their attackers. "We are! And we do!" Thomas Brown yelled in answer. He aimed his flintlock and fired at an advancing warrior. "In fact, we're so close to Chota Town they can probably hear the racket." He tossed the gun aside and snatched a loaded one from Little Buffalo. "Keep'em comin', boy! Yer maw would be proud of you." James fired and missed. With a curse, he tossed the gun to Buffalo. He had been in many dangerous situations but he had to admit, none quite as exhilarating as being pinned down by a dozen or two screaming natives. He leaned toward Thomas and yelled to be heard above the earsplitting noise, "Then why are they attacking us here, so close to a village?" At that moment a particularly fierce looking native jumped up from cover and dashed toward them. James snatched up a tomahawk and sent it flying. The primitive instrument buried itself into the chest of the charging Indian who jerked back from the impact. With what seemed inhuman strength, the Indian stumbled the last few steps before finally crumpling forward. James leaned back as the warrior fell. The dead body draped motionless across the log behind which James, Thomas, and young Buffalo crouched.

Thomas's gravely, ever complaining voice pricked at James. "I thought maybe you was goin' ta invite that one over fer tea," he snorted and reached up to push the body away. Thomas's hand froze halfway to its mark as Buffalo yelped in Indian fashion and scrambled forward. Before either man knew what the boy was about, Buffalo expertly, and with seemingly great enthusiasm, scalped the fallen warrior. "Damn!" Thomas swore as he scratched at his ragged, gray whiskers. His gaze swung to James and his lips pulled back in a toothless grin. James was glad he was far enough away not to smell Thomas's breath. What few teeth the man had left were black with neglect and decay. "I guess I lied when I said this one was tame," he intoned with obvious pleasure. Before James had a chance to ponder Thomas's propensity to increase his discomfort at every opportunity, a yell rent the air. Another warrior sprang up and charged. Thomas quickly turned and fired. "I'd be careful if I was you, Fitz-Gerald." He glanced at Buffalo and then back to James. "Some savages take a special likin' ta red hair." Buffalo looked proudly at Thomas as he stuffed the scalp into his waistband. With the blood still on his hands he reached for the spent musket. James ignored Thomas and the boy as he aimed his fire- arm. This time he didn't miss. The past ten years of James's life in the king's service had been a life spent alone -- a life filled with secret missions. The face of death was always neatly hidden behind the mask of civilization and clothed in miss- matched loyalties, a dark deadly puzzle to be figured out. Now he was here, where death was a painted face with a gaping mouth and mobile tongue frantically pumping to fill the air with nerve shattering screams. He'd never felt so close to death...or so alive. Out here the two went hand in hand. James smiled at Buffalo. "You know the scalp really belongs to me." Some might think their humor misplaced at a time like this But having danced with death on numerous occasions, James understood the need for levity. "You owe me. Remember?" the boy yelled back and tossed a fresh gun in his direction. James snatched the loaded musket from the air just as he heard Thomas gasp. He saw Thomas crumple forward grasping at his shoulder. There was no time to examine his wound. James swung his musket around and fired. Another Indian fell. "If we get out of this one alive, boy, you can have all the scalps!" he promised Buffalo with a yell.

"Look!" James spun around at the sound of Buffalo's voice. He had known it would be only a matter of time before some of the warriors circled around to their rear. He froze for the span of a heartbeat. Not fifty feet away an Indian woman stood, her face partially hidden from his view by the bow she held stretched and ready to let fly an arrow. Quickly pulling up his musket, he pointed the barrel in her direction. James had never killed a woman. The muscle worked in his cheek as he aimed then suddenly searing pain shot up his arm. As he fell to one side he looked at Thomas in disbelief. The old mad man had actually kicked him on the elbow sending his shot well wide of its mark. Thomas gripped his bleeding shoulder as he choked out, "Cherokee!" At that moment an arrow whistled past James's head and the Indian who stopped it stumbled over their barricade to land across one of his legs. A quick look back revealed the woman was gone. Cherokee burst upon the scene. James would not have believed the din of earsplitting whoops could increase, but increase it did. "Hot damn! I knew they would make it!" Thomas cheered through gritted teeth, then moaned just as enthusiastically. James noted the pride that glowed in his partner's face. It appeared the old thorn in the flesh had a particular liking for this tribe. "That's right, lad." Thomas chuckled as if he'd heard James's thought and then shifted himself to better wait out the battle. "These here are Dancin' Cloud's warriors." Their attackers, as of one mind, slipped back into the trees and disappeared. The forest again turned into a troubled silence as the whoops died down and the Cherokee warriors followed the retreating renegades. Buffalo wasted no time climbing over their arrow-laden barricade to scramble, knife in hand, to lift whatever scalps were still available. Pushing himself to his feet James looked out at the scene before him. Bodies lay scattered about as the boy scurried, dipped and danced among the dead he further mutilated. The stench of spent gunpowder and the coppery sweet odor of blood hung heavy in the early morning air to mix with the scent of forest mint and kicked-up soil. The scent of death mixed with the smell of life.

Remembering the woman James looked back once more. "That was a woman that popped up over there," he said, sounding stupid. "Sure was." Thomas whistled loudly, mimicking James's call to bring his mount. "Now where do you suppose that crazy horse of yours is? I imagine the mules are long gone by now and my Daisy along with 'um." "They're not gone." Buffalo, who was back from his scalping excursion, intoned with awe. Both men turned around to get a look at what could have so enraptured their young companion. Walking gracefully toward them was a warrior whose size very closely matched James's own impressive physique. In one hand he gripped the lead ropes of both mules. Amazingly the packs were still tied in place. Eagle, James's black stallion, followed docilely behind. Unfortunately, Daisy, Thomas's old mare, was not with them James watched as the proud warrior squatted down in front of Thomas and examined his shoulder. "You will live, old friend." the Indian announced as he stood and, with surprising gentleness, pulled Thomas to his feet. *** New Moon stood before the open doorway of her summer lodge and peered into the dark interior. Behind her she could hear the excitement in the village; it crawled over her skin like a thousand ants. She breathed deeply of the scent of wood-smoke and roasting meat, but not even the comforting aromas that spoke of the safety of her home could quiet the uneasiness in her spirit. His hair was the deep rich color of the great river's clay. Every nerve, every sense, told her he was the one. She could feel him now, drawing closer. As if in response to her thoughts, the village quieted. Even the dogs that had moments before been yelping suddenly stilled. She did not have to turn around to know they were watching him. He would at this moment be coming through the gate of the tall wooden wall surrounding their community.

CHAPTER TWO James studied the tall timber walls on either side of them as they moved slowly through the narrow gateway. He had heard that the forts of the frontier were patterned after the design of the Cherokee's walled villages. Above, standing guard along the tall wall, were warriors whose job it was to watch over the coming and going of villagers and visitors.

Once all were through the gate he pulled back lightly on the reins and his large stallion halted. From his vantage spot he had a clear view of the village. Unlike the planes Indian who lived in tents, these people lived in wooden lodges. Each wooden or summer lodge had a smaller domed structure beside it used for sleeping in the winter. He saw the Peace Chief exit his lodge. Their eyes met briefly and James grinned as he looked away. His friend Dancing Cloud would not have shown surprise if he'd shown up in his village with a traveling circus, complete with clowns and dancing bears. Why would his expression be any different at seeing him dressed as a trader and riding double with Thomas? As Dancing Cloud made his way in their direction, James let his gaze move from one detail of the village to another until his eyes focused on the straight, stiff back of a woman. Something about her stance piqued his interest. Not one other person in the village stood with his back turned toward the new arrivals. In fact the, entire citizenship moved in their direction. Everyone...except her. He tilted his head to one side and contemplated her behavior. She was doing nothing that he could discern. Just standing there, waiting. For him? His skin tingled. Thomas must be right. All the excitement has rattled my brain, he told himself with a sudden snort and then patted Eagle's neck as the horse stepped nervously in response. The horse calmed easily enough. Relaxing was another matter. His gaze followed the flow of ebony hair that ended at the small of her back, bringing attention to the curve of her hips beneath the short skirt. He shifted uncomfortably and told himself to look away, but he could not. She turned. New Moon's gaze went directly to his. The surge of power that slammed into her body felt like a solid wall rather than her own perception of his strength. She wanted to turn and walk away but she remained, held by his eyes. A light breeze caught in her hair and whipped it gently from her face. She saw his longing in the tightness of his features. An unwanted warmth coiled in the pit of her stomach. The same breeze molded the soft doeskin of her dress to her figure like a gentle caress. She watched as his gaze traced the outline of her body and then returned slowly to meet her own. Her mind rebelled against the sensations coursing through her. He was a White man...a no thing! Yet, with every fiber of her being she knew. He was the one. The grin that tugged at the corners of his lips did not go unnoticed by her as her own gaze raked over him from head to toe. Then, with a gesture known the world over, she tilted her head back, her nose into the air, turned and entered her lodge.

New Moon walked on trembling legs to her bed of furs and lowered herself to their blessed stability. She gasped for air that seemed suddenly too thin as the thundering rhythm of her heart beat against her ribs. His eyes were the clear shade of blue that graced a summer sky...the same shade of blue that enveloped her when her vision was upon her. *** "James," Thomas hissed impatiently. "Get me down off this damn horse." James frowned as he looked over his shoulder at Thomas, "I guess you're feeling better now." He answered half vexed. He looked around. "Where's Buffalo?" "You worry too much about that kid. He's prob'ly makin' hisself acquainted with tha young folks," The older man shifted and twitched as he grumbled under breath. Wanting the old trader off his horse as much as the old trader wanted himself off, James wasted no more time. He swung one leg over Eagle's neck and slid smoothly to the ground. He couldn't help but grumble a bit himself on the way down to the ground. "If you trained your mounts better, that scrawny animal you called a horse wouldn't have run off." He reached up to help Thomas slide clumsily from Eagle's back. "I'm not letting you ride double again. It's too much to ask of any horse." Thomas puffed up like a game rooster in a standoff. He took a few awkward steps in a comical effort to readjust his britches while gripping his wounded shoulder. "Wouldn't a had to ride double in tha first place if that damn horse of yours would a let me up there without you." "You would not have had to ride Eagle at all if you would have let me cut loose some of your precious goods from one of those broken-down old mules." James responded and then swore silently, regretting his remark the second it parted from his lips. Once again he had let the old man drag him into another childish argument. Maybe if he just ignored him, Thomas would find someone else to harass. But Thomas wasn't through with James yet. "A couple a days alone with that beast and I'd have him trained proper. Just what do you have ta say about that? Mister cut my- packs-loose!" James hid a grin as he focused his attention on removing Eagle's saddle. He didn't bother to remind Thomas that, as partners, the goods in those packs belonged as much to him as they did to Thomas. He supposed, however, since Thomas was unaware of his identity or his mission, he should appear more interested in the post as a moneymaking operation. If only his thoughts at the moment were not so monopolized by that woman. He chuckled softly. His father once told him his downfall would come callin' in a skirt. He bet his dear old Da had

never seen legs like that exposed below a skirt. In his minds eye he re-experienced the vision of those legs. His concentration broke when the big Indian who escorted them to the village took Thomas by the arm and spoke in a deep, curt voice, "Your wound bleeds. Come with me. Our medicine man will dress it." Dancing Cloud stepped up and placed a hand on the proud warrior's shoulder. The man immediately turned to face his chief. "There were no whites among the renegades," the warrior said quietly. The look of pain that fluttered across Cloud's face reflected in the warrior's eyes then was gone. Thomas, oblivious to the unspoken emotions, bellowed over his shoulder at James as he was led away, "Just a couple of days, that's all it would take." The large Indian placed a firm hand on Thomas's back and pushed him into the medicine man's lodge. Cloud turned to James. "Come with me to my lodge, Silent Deer will see to Thomas's comfort. We have much to talk about." The chief motioned and a young brave of high standing among his peers stepped forward. "Runs Far, take our guest's horse and tend to him." Runs Far anxiously snatched at the reins. James knew horses were still rare in the upper towns. Runs Far's status among the other young braves would be elevated by this chance to care for one of these strange and beautiful animals. James smiled down at the boy to let him know that he trusted him to care for his mount. Just then Buffalo appeared as if from nowhere, a gleam of mischief lurking in his black eyes. This elicited a warning frown from James. Patting Eagle's neck he spoke in a hushed but serious tone, "You behave yourself, Buffalo." There was no doubt in his mind that the boy was up to something. Until now the well-trained stallion had shown no real concern, even with all the unknown hands stretching out to touch his shiny coat. James knew his horse and as long as no one other than himself tried to mount Eagle, the stallion would remain as docile as a kitten. But now something about the boy holding his reins must have caught the horse's attention. Eagle stuck his damp nose close to Runs Far and sniffed. He was obviously agitated. James raised a brow as he looked straight at Buffalo. His suspicions were confirmed as Buffalo fought to keep a straight face.

Then to Runs Far's surprise and with a suddenness that made every native jump in startled surprise, the proud beast blew his hot, wet breath directly into the boy's face. This brought a loud burst of laughter from the villagers. Runs Far stood ramrod still as slick moisture dripped from his chin and a glaze of sheer terror shown from his charcoal-colored eyes. Buffalo avoided looking directly at James as he magnanimously offered to take the crazy horse himself. With a warning thump to the back of Buffalo's head James turned and followed Cloud into his lodge. Cloud motioned for James to make himself comfortable against a cane backrest located in a far corner of the one large room. "Why are you here, my friend?" Cloud finally asked. James raised a questioning brow as he glanced over to Cloud's wife and daughter who sat on a platform on the opposite side of the lodge. Cloud understood and spoke to his family in Cherokee, "Smiling Face, take Sparrow and find some other chore to do outside." James was surprised to see Cloud's wife lift her chin in defiance. Cloud sighed heavily, not the least angered by her show of stubbornness. "Please," he said in English. A smile touched his lips evoking a playful grin from his mate. It was easy for James to see how she came by her name. As her lips spread across her face, her eyes twinkled and an otherwise solemn expression took on a beauty and vibrancy all its own. With an exaggerated look of defeat Cloud explained in English, "After my trip to England I made the mistake of telling my wife about the word please, and how the white manmade a great show of asking their women. Now I am no longer chief in my own lodge." James worked to keep his own face immobile. "I see." "Good. I plan for us to talk more about this thing later." Smiling Face rose gracefully and gathered her things, but Sparrow was not ready to leave. She wanted to get a closer look at the white man. With the comical mixture of boldness and curiosity only children posses she walked directly up to James. He winked.

The beautiful child with round, tawny cheeks and eyes as black as night giggled in response. She reached out and touched a finger to James's chin. Sparrow had never seen short prickly hairs on the faces of the village warriors. James sat very still while she ran her tiny finger along his cheek. "Are you the one?" She asked boldly in Cherokee. Smiling Face turned with a start at the sound of her daughter's voice. Her disbelief that her husband would allow their daughter to behave with such lack of respect to their guest was plainly reflected in her eyes. James had been taught the language by Dancing Cloud himself, yet he wondered if he'd heard her correctly. "The one? I don't know. Do you want me to be?" He asked gently. Sparrow glanced over her shoulder at her father and then back to James. A smile very much like her mother's widened across her face and brightened her eyes. "Yes," she answered simply. This tiny girl with her knowing eyes tugged mightily at his heartstrings. Her spunk and mischief reminded him of the children in his beloved Ireland. "Then I'll do me best ta give ye yer heart's desire, lass," he answered her in his native brogue that, even now after so many years away, came easily to his lips. Smiling Face frowned, uneasy at the strange sounding words while Sparrow giggled as if in total understanding. Smiling face took her daughter by the hand and drew her quickly outside. James watched as they passed through the doorway. "You have a beautiful family, Cloud." Cloud hid the laughter that rumbled in his heart. "Yes, I do," he agreed happily. "And the boy you brought with you. Is he your son?" James turned back to Cloud and adjusted his weight against the backrest. "No, but he's a fine lad. I brought him with me from the post. His name is Buffalo." "Ha, I remember Buffalo. I remember his mother as well." There was a flicker of regret in the kind eyes. "It has been a long time since I have been to the post. Buffalo has grown into a fine looking young brave." With a tone of approval the chief added, "It is good that you have taken the responsibility of his manhood. His mother has no family to train him. This act of kindness will impress my people much." James watched as Cloud reached down to pick up his pipe and loaded it with tobacco. There was no way Cloud could know of James's mission. Yet he hit James's intention of situating himself within the village right on the head.

Even Sohis bringing Buffalo along had nothing to do with it. He'd felt sorry for the boy, and felt it would do him good to get away from the post for awhile. Both men sat quietly while Cloud packed down the leaves then drew slowly from the long stem as he touched a burning twig to the carved bowl. With lungs full of the aromatic smoke he tilted his head back and blew three short puffs upward to float in the air above them. Cloud passed the peace offering to James. "I have heard of the Englishman who paid off all of Thomas's and George's debt at the trading post and then rode out to live two summers with the Choctaw. Tell me, Robin, why has your heart led you here?" James laughed. "It is good to hear my friend call me by my old name." He held the carved bowl in his hand and drew deeply from the stem. The smoking ceremony was the first one Cloud taught him years ago when he and a handful of other Indians came to England to visit the king. 'No lies,' the chief had told him, 'not even a half-truth is to be spoken during the passing of the pipe.' James leaned forward as he passed the pipe back to Cloud. He rested a forearm on his bent knee while resting most of his weight on the other hand. "My king has sent me to take an evil man out from your nation. This will not be an easy thing because he is an honored friend among your people." James felt the tension slowly leave his body as he watched Cloud draw casually from the pipe. The tobacco was strong. That was good, he needed to relax. Maybe tonight he would sleep...and not dream. "Who is this evil man?" The chief asked and passed the pipe back to James. "His name is Christoph DuPrey." James knew he took a huge chance in telling this to Cloud, but he would not dishonor their friendship by telling him a lie. He passed the pipe back to Cloud who took a long draw. Cloud nodded, "I know this man. I also see the deceit in him. He has gained great power among my people." Time hung suspended between them as James waited for Cloud to finish speaking, as it was clear to James the chief had more to say. "It is a good thing that you do." Cloud piddled with the pipe. "And when you have completed what the Great White Chief has sent you to do, what will you do then, my brother?" James watched Cloud's expression closely. Clearly he had missed some nuance in the exchange. "I suppose I will return to the lands of my father. I will find a wife and have children. The usual things that a man does when he is ready to settle down."

"Ha..." the Chief responded. "I hear your words with my ears," Cloud tapped a finger to the center of his chest, "but not with my heart. This is because you speak only of your plans." Cloud's gaze locked with James's, a gesture not practiced among Cherokee. After drawing deeply from the pipe once again he passed it back to James. He waited patiently for James to inhale. Then, as if they had discussed the subject many times before, he asked, "Now, my brother, speak to me of your dreams."

CHAPTER THREE New Moon sat back on her haunches and rubbed the small of her back with one hand as she wiped the other arm across her sweaty brow. Breathing a soft moan she arched backward in an attempt to ease the persistent ache. There were other chores that needed her attention, but she felt safe here in the garden. She was sure she would not run into him here among the vegetables. Her heart was not happy to think the spirits might actually send such a man to her. Not when the good man that was her husband had been killed by one of his kind. A shiver of apprehension ran down her spine and she glanced over her shoulder. Her gaze landed on the very one she tried to avoid. She knew she should turn her back and continue with her work. Instead, she twisted herself around so she could watch him better. He leaned against a nearby tree lazily watching the clouds float above his head.He no longer wore the buckskins he had arrived in, but instead wore the narrow loincloth and short moccasins of the Ani-Yunuiya, Principal People. She grunted in disapproval. Does he think dressing as a warrior will make him a warrior? If that is what he thinks, then he is wrong. She shifted her position slightly as she watched him closely. He didn't even sense her scrutiny. No wonder his party walked into an ambush, she mused with disgust. This man was no warrior. Surely her vision had come from the prankster! Against her will, New Moon's gaze was drawn to his hair, which hung long and straight to just below his shoulders. She had never seen hair of that color. It shone with the deep rich color of the river clay, just as her dream had shown her. So his hair is an unusual color, she scolded her inner voice. It was probably common where he came from. Maybe hair of such a color was a bad omen. He turned in her direction and raised his arms to rest them on a branch that stretched just above his head. She observed the way his muscles rippled along his large frame when he moved. Something caught his eye and he turned his face away. Grinning he propped his temple on his forearm. New Moon tore her gaze away to look toward the playing field. He watched Buffalo, the young half-breed from the post. Her attention returned to the white man and her heartbeat quickened. His new position gave her an excellent view of his firmly muscled chest and upper arms.

An unwelcome tingling erupted in her belly. A trembling breath filled her lungs as she allowed her gaze to wander lower along the rippled strength of his narrow waist. Why shouldn't she look? She excused herself and relaxed. Her eyes were drawn lower still to his powerfully built legs that looked as if they could run forever, and she wondered how it would feel to run at his side. Her senses reeled with the eerie feeling of dream walking. Someday she would know. She steeled herself against the flood of anticipation that washed over her body and sent her every fiber of being into chaotic response. Her vision began a slow return trip upward, lingering over the rounded muscles of his calves. Her fingers tightly gripped her bent knees as her gaze continued upward to the sleek strength of his thigh and hip that showed on each side of his loincloth...which, she realized with a start, was draped in the most peculiar angle. Great Spirit! Her gaze flew to his and then quickly away, but not before she saw an auburn brow arch and lips quirk in amusement. New Moon stiffened her posture. How had he spotted her? There were a dozen women in the garden. She looked about her and saw one hand after another come up to cover smiling lips and hold back giggles. Rising smoothly to her feet, she turned in a huff and walked proudly in the opposite direction. Being a regular at court made James used to the timid appraisal of women who hid boldness behind a pretense of shyness. Their falseness always left him a little cold. But in that little Indian woman's eyes he'd seen an honest spark of admiration, and no small amount of attraction. Her appraisal sent a fire through his veins that left his whole body throbbing. So why did she keep turning her back in a huff? A smile spread across his lips. Women really were all alike. They will always play hard to get to the very end. His mind drifted to Beth, to her porcelain skin and innocent eyes. In the end, he thought cynically, if you are lucky, the truth comes out. Thomas placed a heavy hand on James's shoulder. "Bloody everlasting hell, Thomas," James swore quietly, but with much feeling. "Must you sneak up on me?"

Thomas snickered. "I weren't sneakin', boy. Hell! I was even whistlin' when I come walkin' up." Thomas's humor often drew sparks from James, a fact that obviously made Thomas all the happier. Dismissing his partner, James looked toward the garden. His thoughts of Beth were dismissed, filed neatly away in his mind with other hard lessons learned. He wouldn't make the same mistake twice. That didn't mean he couldn't enjoy the pleasures at hand. Tantalizing visions of New Moon consumed him, especially those legs. God, but he'd never seen such legs on a woman. Thomas gustily cleared his throat and James glanced back over his shoulder. "You've stirred up a lot of attention in the village." The old trader said with a snicker. "I'd say you could prob'ly have your pick of any pretty little Injun squaw you want. Any of um that are so inclined, that is. "These Injuns have a set of rules on such matters, ya know. You break their rules and it won't be no meetin' at sunrise on no field of honor. I feel I got ta tell ya, partner," he nodded in the direction James looked, "that one don't want no part of ya, and if ya go after her you're goin' ta be breakin' one a them rules." James's grin was full of confidence. "If you'd gotten here a little sooner, you wouldn't be so sure of that. I have learned that the native women are a sight more honest than white women, at least about their physical desires." "Ha! You're just thinkin' with your pecker. I wasn't so far away that I didn't see tha little princess snub ya like ya was a gutter rat." Thomas sneered as he leaned against the tree. "There ain't been a squaw born that don't look real hard at what she likes. Hell, boy, it's in their blood. You're right about their honesty. They're simple honest folks. But when one of them gives ya the snub like that one just done, it's best ta stay away. That, or," he grinned as he pointed at James's lopsided loincloth, "Lose what ya prize tha most." "I think you've misjudged her, Thomas." Thomas shrugged his uninjured shoulder. "You think you're so smart just 'cause you been around the world and talk fancy. You don't know half what ya think ya know." He bent down to retrieve a small twig from the ground. As he straightened his gaze locked with James's. "You think ya know so much," he poked the twig in his mouth, "maybe you'd like ta make a wager on New Moon's attraction ta ya?" Surprise showed in James's eyes. "Now why would I want to do that, Thomas?" Thomas lowered his voice and squinted his eyes, "Ta try an prove me wrong. Course that won't happen. You don't know nothin' 'bout Cherokee women."

James's gaze wandered to the spot where he had last seen New Moon. "I know women, Thomas. Down deep they're all the same. I haven't seen anything yet that would cause me to change my mind." James was used to having his pick of women, married or otherwise. Even Beth, the one woman he had actually fallen in love with. The day before she wed the aged and sickly, yet wealthy, duke she actually suggested they continue on as lovers. Beth had totally duped him with her pretense of innocence and declarations of undying love. He'd never known a woman who seemed so sweet and frail -- and yes, even innocent. That he had kept the facts about his own financial situation from her only proved to be a wise decision on his part. Thomas made a rude sound as he rubbed his aching shoulder. He let his gaze slide over James. This rugged half-naked man standing before him didn't look like the same man who had strutted into the post almost two years ago. Though he wore the velvet and lace of a dandy, Thomas realized even then that he was no dandy. Still he'd been surprised by his young partner's tenacity when he took off and then actually returned alive and well after a year and a half of living with the Choctaw. He might pick on him a bit, he told himself, but he had a genuine fondness for the young man. And the young man still had a lot to learn. Thomas could not hold back a chuckle at the idea. He might as well enjoy watching the learning of those lessons. James looked again at Thomas and raised an arrogant brow, "I've known a lot of women, Thomas. Handle them just right and any of them will come around. As for this little Cherokee, I'll have her eating out of my hand." James looked away but added over his shoulder, "I'll take you up on your bet." Thomas chuckled. "What I forgot ta tell ya was she's New Moon, Dancin' Cloud's sister, and she's already been wedded ta the best. Before his death her husband was the village's Most Beloved Warrior." "New Moon." James let the name slip from between his lips. "A new beginning." Thomas laughed out right. "I don't know what you're talkin' about but let me tell ya again, she's done been had by the best! You ain't never gonna get her under your blanket, much less be havin' her ta pant after ya." He stretched lazily and then scratched vigorously at his crotch as he watched James turn to glare at him with cold blue eyes. "That crazy horse that follows you around like a pup and me old grand-dad's fine gold watch will be in the pot," he said with a sneer as he gave one last pull at his buck-skins and then extended the same hand in James's direction.

"Your old grand-dad's gold watch, is it? You're one lying sonofabitch, Thomas. That watch isn't old enough to have belonged to your grand-dad." Actually Thomas's habit of lying didn't bother him. It was his own weakness at being suckered in by the old trader. He'd never bet on a woman. If she found out, he might very well lose the member Thomas had so cheerfully mentioned. He cut a jaundiced eye to Thomas's extended hand. After a brief hesitation he sealed the agreement with a firm shake. "But that don't matter none," he said, easily mocking Thomas frontier accent. He knew Thomas hated it when he did that. "I done had myself a hankerin' fur that watch. It'll look real nice hangin' 'round my neck. Don't you agree?" Thomas laughed. "You done been with these savages fer too long. You can't even remember what a watch is for. But that's no never-mind. You ain't never goin' ta know how it looks. But I'll be thinkin' of you ever' time I saddle up." James released Thomas's hand. "I can give you some medicine for that itch of yours. I'd suggest you use it before you infect any of the women here." Without further comment James turned and walked toward the garden. Thomas laughed as he called after him, "I ain't never known no doctor turned trader, turned Injun before. Is that a doctor's or an Injun's cream you'll be agivin' me?" James ignored Thomas as he stepped through the low-growing vegetables into the cornfield. Just across from him, on the next row, he spotted her. She stood with her back to him as she pulled back the husks on an ear of corn. He looked at her long black hair and could think of nothing he'd like better at this very moment than to bury his face in it. This was the closest he'd been to her and his palms itched to reach out and take her. She wanted him as much as he wanted her, he was sure of it. As sure as he had ever been of anything in his life. With that thought, he stepped through the row that separated them and slipped his arms around her. "You are beautiful," he whispered into her ear in her own language. "I have wanted to feel you in my arms from the first moment I saw you." He pulled her tightly into his embrace. She was a head shorter than he, yet taller than most women he knew. Her form molded to his like two pieces of the same puzzle. Her head tilted back to rest against his shoulder and a small sigh escaped from between her lips as she turned her face away from him. At her lack of resistance all coherent thought fled him. Warmth flooded his body as his head swam with the poignant, purely female scent of her.

Encouraged, he nuzzled his face in her hair and feasted on the heady aroma. With no thought beyond the scent and feel of the woman in his arms, his hands moved hungrily to boldly explore what they held. So lost was he in his own sensations that he didn't notice what should have been an unmistakable shifting of her stance. Then, without warning, pain exploded in his groin and radiated upward until the bile rose in his throat and a thousand lights went off in his head. He staggered backward as he drew his arms from around her waist to hug his own. James looked at her through a red haze of pain and thought that he might retch, or worse, faint. Showing him a measure of mercy she turned from him to disappear into the tall corn. When he was sure she'd gone James tumbled to the ground. Shamefully twisting in his misery, he squeezed his eyes shut and fought the nausea that threatened to overwhelm him. Slowly the sickness withdrew. Testing it, he carefully opened one eye. Squatting in the dirt in front of him was an old woman. The other eye popped open. He blinked a couple of times to clear them of tears, hoping to bring her face into better focus. It was useless. Her advanced years had left her face a mass of creases and wrinkles. The skin on her face sagged till her eyes were nearly hidden by the folds. Her mouth was but a slit between the folds and her nose nothing more than a puckered button in the center. Even Sohe could see the twinkle of life in the nearly concealed orbs and thought of Akachee, the old Choctaw woman for whom he had hunted during his stay in her village. He worked his tightened lips into a half grin. Her black gaze darted to his mouth, and she tilted her head sideways much like a mutt looking at a curiosity. The wrinkled face, if it were possible, wrinkled even more in a scowl of disapproval. James let the smile slip away and scowled right back. Of course, the effect was somewhat less dramatic considering he was curled in the dirt like a grub plucked from its hole, but it seemed to satisfy her. In his pain and lapse into sentimental remembrance, he had forgotten he was now in a Cherokee camp where no sign of weakness in a visitor could be respected. With a grunt the old woman sat about to pull his wrist from between his knees as she tugged on his loincloth. James fought with her gnarled hands. "No! No. I'm fine. I don't need your help," he hastened to explain in Cherokee. The old lady sat back on her haunches and looked at him. He could swear he saw mischief in the half-hidden eyes. "I don't need help. I'll be fine. You just stay right there." He rolled up to his knees and rose a bit clumsily to his feet. Straightening as far as he could he held his arms out to his sides to show her he was fit. "I'm fine. See?"

With a mumbled curse he turned and hobbled slowly in the opposite direction. The last thing he needed was the tribe's old witch woman plastering his testicles in leaves and mud!

CHAPTER FOUR James woke to the sounds of ragged, nasal snoring. Outside, the darkness still hung over the village like a black drape. He shifted under his furs, rolled up on his side, and snuggled deeper into the warm pile. However, the dawning of a new day would not be delayed. Soon the stillness of the early pre-dawn came to life with the sound of villagers filing out of their lodges on their way to the narrow stream that meandered through the village. It was almost time for the water ceremony to greet the sun. He rose and looked at Thomas's sleeping form. His body lay half in, half out of their lodge. How different Thomas was from George. It was hard to believe the two were actually partners. Hell! It was hard to believe he was Thomas's partner. However, he congratulated himself, buying into the post by paying off the two men's debts had been a stroke of genius on his part. Not only was he provided with a believable cover, but also a trader taking up residence with the Indians was a fairly common practice. James glanced around the small one-room lodge. He did not actually miss having a butler, though one would come in handy now. He could not suppress a grin at the thought of Willis standing at the foot of his bed, breechcloth in hand. Pushing strong fingers through his tangled hair he gave a vigorous scratch to his scalp and then set about to find the blasted thing. As ridiculous as the thought might be for Willis to be here helping him to dress, at least Willis never lost a single piece of his clothing, no matter how small it was. Finally he spotted the strip of rawhide peeking out from under one of Thomas's packs. James snatched up the breechcloth and his knife and hastily slipped them both on. With one last adjustment to the meager groin covering and a few swipes with his fingers through his hair to remove the tangles he stepped over Thomas's body. Once outside he breathed deeply of the fresh, crisp mountain air. James had traveled over most of the world but no place he had ever visited made him feel the way this country did. He took another beep breath and stretched his long powerful body. The village was defiantly on the move now. He needed to hurry if he was going to greet the sun. The day before, traveling downward toward the village from a higher peak, he spotted a perfectly formed little cove protected by large boulders on one side and a high bank on the other. The river appeared to form a deep pond where it flowed through the cove. He could think of no better place to bathe and perform his own ceremony to greet the sun.

The warrior standing guard at the gate offered no resistance when James called out his intention of going to water outside of the Cherokee fortress. Once outside, he sprinted toward the boulders that formed a natural wall to the cove and offered only a narrow pathway through. It took no great ability at tracking to see this was indeed a well-used passage or to see that the spongy moss had been recently trod upon. He glanced up at the brightening sky and felt a moment of disappointment at not having the cove to himself, but there was nothing else to do. The sun would soon peak over the horizon. James quickly slipped between the boulders and looked around. The still emptiness of the cove sent a whispered warning along his senses. Lifting his knife to his lips he slid the blunted side of the blade between his teeth and bit down securely. As he stripped off his breechcloth he let his vision scan the cane. Then, with a quick glance back to a particularly thick path of green growth, he grinned and then dove into the icy water. New Moon dug her nails into the soil as she peered out from her hiding place among the river cane. The white man had invaded her special place. All the others knew this was her place. No one ever bothered her here. Not until now, not until this...white man. She watched and listened as he washed and sang a white man's song. He spoke loudly in his own language. His voice changed in tone in a most unusual, but not unpleasant way. She glanced to the east. The sky brightened as she watched. Her resentment grew and made sitting still more than she could manage. She shifted her weight, a motion too minute to attract attention. The sun rose to brighten the eastern sky and she gritted her teeth. He raised his arms and spoke the first words of the Cherokee prayer. His deep voice embraced the words of her ancestors and presented them with pride to the sun and the Great Spirit, causing her breath to catch in her throat as she listened. Never had she heard the ceremony spoken so beautifully. Finishing the prayer he turned back toward the bank. New Moon tensed as his gaze moved across the cane where she hid. She assured herself that he could not see her, but still her skin tingled with uncertainty. This white man was like no other she had seen. Even in nakedness he wore his strength and pride as naturally as a most beloved warrior. This was uncommon for white men who thought the layers of bear-hide and the assortment of weapons hanging from their bodies could enhance their strength. The aura of power that surrounded him intrigued her. She held her breath as water ran from his hair in little streams that captured her attention and carried her vision along. It cascaded over the bulging strength of his shoulders and down his chest to his narrow waist.

She closed her eyes and swallowed hard as the memory of that chest and rippled waist pressed hard against her back flooded her being with unwanted desire. Like a person suffocating, she gulped in the air she had withheld from her lungs. New Moon stiffened and her eyes flew open. The scent of a mountain cat filled her nostrils. Instantly her warrior instincts came to life and she berated herself for behaving like a silly woman. The cat was near. She glanced at the leaves of the cane, checking the wind's direction. Her entire being tensed with foreboding as she turned her attention back to the no thing. He took another step in her direction and she saw the smug grin spread across his face. This white man that thought to pass himself off as a warrior was aware of her, but not the cat! Could he not sense the danger? Of course not, he was too busy strutting and waving his spear. He stepped onto the bank and moved with feline grace toward the cane where she crouched. From the corner of her eye she saw the cat as it leapt from the boulder to land lightly on the ground near her hiding place. It was her own totem, her sister from the animal world. To the white man's credit, he too stood his ground, his eyes boring into those of the cat. The cat dropped her ragged ears low to her head and growled a warning. A muscle worked in the white man's cheek and his fingers curled more tightly about his knife. Great Spirit! Her heart cried out. He was going to make war with the mountain cat! A flood of emotions sprang up within her, but it was anger that finally ruled her actions as she pushed aside the cane and stepped out into the open. James's gaze slipped from the yellow eyes of the cat to New Moon's, and she felt the tension arch between them. Neither was willing to break eye contact, even when New Moon spoke to the cat. "Go home to your young ones, little sister. I will not allow you to have this foolish white man." James recoiled at the sneer he heard in her voice. The woman must be crazy to step out and face a cat with no weapon! Yet he could not help but be impressed by her calm bravery. God, but she is magnificent! The cat rumbled deep within its chest as she glanced nervously over her shoulder at New Moon. "Go!" New Moon commanded. The cat, as if deciding the effort to stay would take too much energy, turned away and disappeared between a crevice in the large boulders. "Are you out of your mind?" The anger in his expression should have given her pause, but her own anger was flying too high.

James tried with all his strength to control his temper, but the strain was almost too much. He shook with relief that the cat had not turned on New Moon, yet was burned with fury because she took such a risk. But she is alive, he told himself. Alive...and brave and beautiful beyond any other woman. New Moon squared her shoulders in challenge as she looked with disgust at James. She watched him through eyes that flashed white-hot bolts of anger. James could see why the cat proved faint of heart. Though the cat may have chosen to turn from the fire, James found himself drawn to it like a moth to a flame. The cat now forgotten, he let his gaze travel over her. She had been wet when she pulled on her dress and now the soft doe-hide clung to the moisture on her skin. She watched as his eyes caressed her every curve. Was there nothing that could cool this man's blood? She remembered her vision and how the Great Spirit had shown him to her through his totem, a strange form of a cat. The great muscular beast in her vision had a wide tuft of hair circling his neck. His eyes were a calm, gentle shade of blue, but like this white man's eyes, they had flashed with the warmth of the summer sky when he turned his head and locked his vision to hers. Two long steps and he reached out for her. She swung at him, but was no match for his strength. He caught her easily. Taking hold of her wrist, James pulled her struggling arms to her back and clasped one large hand around both of her smaller wrists and pulled her up tightly. His grip was as unbreakable as ropes of new rawhide, yet as gentle as a caress. Acute awareness of his naked body against her spread heat through her wet dress to sear her skin. She clenched her teeth together in an attempt to deny the uncontrollable sensations coursing through her with the vigor of a raging mountain river. This white man who strutted with the pride of a warrior watched her with eyes that pierced her to her soul and grinned. "You look like a she-lion," he whispered. She struggled harder. James chuckled softly and ran the fingers of his free hand along her jaw line. "Your skin is very soft, my little wa-sa. From this day forward, you will always be my little wa-sa...my little mountain cat." New Moon growled deep in her throat, sounding not far removed from the very cat he spoke of. "You stupid white man!" she spat at him. "That lioness almost had you for her cubs. Do you think I am any less dangerous? Many strong warriors have tried to humble me, warriors who would not have become cornered by a kitten."

For all her strong talk her body quaked inside. The lonely hollow place left by her husband's death ached to be filled. She needed a man, but not any man. New Moon wanted a man whose spirit was stronger than hers. One she could not bend to her will. One she could love and respect. One with skin as dark as her own! James seemed not to hear as he smiled down at her. He held her dainty chin with his strong fingers and bent his face close to hers, their lips almost touching. "Have you ever been kissed properly, my little wa-sa?" Her eyes bore hatefully into his, "There have been white men in our village before you came, Blue Eyes. This touching of the lips is nothing more than stalling for time. The weak pale-skin must have time to coax his pitiful manhood to rise so he can try to dominate and humble the women of warriors." With maddening slowness he took his hand from her chin and laid it on the slim column of her throat, feeling the rapid pulse beating there. His hand slid downward over her doeskin-covered breast and lingered to tease the tempting bud that hardened of its own will beneath his thumb. His knowing smile gnawed at her insides. He slid his hand to her waist and then around and down her back. When his hand reached the soft, round firmness of her hips he kneaded his fingers gently around the warm mound before he jerked her up hard against himself. "Do you still think I need to stall for time?" Struggle! Her mind screamed to her unresponsive muscles, but her body was not hers to command. A scent uniquely his filled her nostrils. She could taste his breath on her tongue. She tested his hold on her wrist by pulling against his grip. His hold on her was secure and yet as gentle as one would cradle a baby. He studied her face as he held her. Could he see the sparks of passion in her eyes? Could he feel the weakening of her body, or her heart pounding against his chest? His deep, husky voice slid over her like sun warmed honey. "You talk strong for a woman. Like a woman who thinks she doesn't need a man." She felt the vibrations from his words. She closed her eyes as rumbling, tingling sensations traveled from her chest to her groin. When she again opened her eyes it was to see him staring down at her. Gone from his sky blue eyes was the teasing twinkle, replaced by the dark, smoldering shades of desire.

"Someday you will want me, my little lioness. Then your struggles will be to pull me closer." He rocked his hips forward, and her stomach tightened painfully, causing a gasp to slip from between her lips. "That's when I will show you the pleasure in needing a man." Lowering his head he covered her mouth with his own. She struggled but his hand on her wrist held with little effort.Her body trembled uncontrollably beneath his touch, and she realized her struggles had stopped as she waited in anticipation. His mouth against hers was hard, hot, and wet. She didn't know what to expect next, but the sensations he caused in her now made her head spin. As his wet lips slid seductively over hers he nibbled gently. His tongue came out to trace the outline of her lips. Finally he placed a thumb on her chin and applied pressure. When she opened her mouth to protest, his tongue swept inside to stroke the interior of her mouth with blatant ownership. Passion ignited like a prairie fire within New Moon as his tongue rubbed against hers. She opened her mouth wider to welcome the intimate intrusion. Her spirit soared and her head spun as her inner voice, her spirit voice, told her once again...he is the one. The white man released her arms and they rose upward over his wet chest to his neck and onward until her fingers wound their way into his hair. His warm hands went lower to slip beneath the curve of her bottom. Heat from his naked body scorched her through her still damp dress, and her skin beneath tingled with desire. New Moon could feel his strength as well as his heat. She felt it in the way he held her, in the way his muscles bunched beneath her fingertips. Clawing at his shoulders she returned his kiss in kind. A moan of pure pleasure erupted deep within his chest. To New Moon the sound was like tossing fresh kindling on an already burning fire. Then his words screamed into her consciousness, "I will show you the pleasure in needing a man." Her slipping resolve strengthened. No man, especially a white man, would ever dominate her! She would bring him to his knees first. She could feel the power she had over him even as her own flesh burned from the touch of his fingers on her exposed skin. Then he brought her further under his spell as he slipped her hem up about her waist, leaving more of her sensitive flesh exposed to his searching hands. The full heat of his hands, no longer kept at bay by her damp dress, burned into her flesh. He pressed her hips, pulling her up tightly against himself. Unknowingly she moved restlessly against the hard heat nuzzled so close to her own core of desire. His tongue matched the rhythmic motion of his hips as she clung to him as one falling would cling to a vine.

There was no longer a barrier between his body and hers. If she did not pull away soon he would slide her legs about his waist and she would be lost. She must pull back first, she screamed silently in an attempt to gain control of her warring passions. James fought the fog in his brain and the growing heat in his body. Somewhere, in the still thinking part of his mind, he realized he was no longer the one seducing. She would take the pleasure his body would offer, but in her eyes he would still be a No Thing. A creature with no pride and no strength of will. Never had he considered proving himself to a woman. He'd never had to. Yet, he wanted to prove himself to this one...this Cherokee princess that thought he was a No Thing. He wanted to capture her strength and turn her fire into passion, but he wanted more than that. His pride demanded more. He would have her respect! With all the strength he could muster he raised his lips from hers and whispered, "Now is not the time to make you mine, little purring kitten." James watched the cloud of confusion lift from New Moon's eyes to be replaced first with regret, then relief, and finally, indignation. Her body was still too attuned to his as he held her hips pressed tightly against him. New Moon was aware of the pure masculine strength in his large hands and hardened body. She fought without success to quail the quivering in her own body that called out to his in a way that made her doubt her own control. In near panic she raked her nails downward from his shoulder and across his bare chest. Finding herself suddenly free from the support of his body she stumbled. Her eyes never left his as she steadied herself. How could he just stand there with that grin on his face? His eyes actually twinkled with laughter as they devoured her hair, her eyes, and her lips while she wanted -- what her body cried out for - was for him to take her. An exaggerated huff escaped her lips while she raised her chin and smoothed her dress down to cover her exposed hips. With as much Cherokee pride as she could muster she turned and made her way to the narrow pass. James tilted his head to one side as he watched the retreating hips swish angrily from side to side. Then, with a quick glare over her shoulder, she was gone. He looked down at the four long, red welts stretching across his left breast. Several drops of blood oozed slowly to the surface. "So much for not making the same mistake twice," he mumbled as he touched a finger to one small, ruby-red drop of blood. He rubbed the crimson drop between thumb and finger.

"So your claws are as sharp as your tongue, my little wa-sa." Laughing loudly he called out, "Did you know that you have stolen my heart away, Little Wa-sa?" She probably couldn't hear him. It didn't matter. He had tasted her passion and he would have more. For all her show of spit and vinegar she had responded to him. The only thing left was to win her respect, something that was sure to be a challenge. He let out a happy whoo-whoop and dashed back to the water. New Moon leaned against the boulder just out of sight. Her legs trembled so badly she could not take another step. Are you the one? She asked him silently. Her heart skipped a beat as his laughter reached her ears. Would he follow her and find her leaning weak as a kitten against the rock? She heard him call out. He said she had stolen his heart. Then she heard the water splash. Good. He wasn't coming after her. She ran her tongue lightly across her still sensitive lips and felt again the longing as she remembered the taste of his mouth and the way his hands felt on her body. With the memory also came the vision of his mocking eyes and she stiffened. How could she, a woman of the Wolf Clan...a warrior, be so affected by a no thing? Her chin lifted as she mentally pulled about her the shreds of her dignity and returned to the village.

CHAPTER FIVE The sun had long since set, casting everything beyond the light of the campfire into darkness. Even the stars above were shut out to the ones cocooned in the warmth and brilliance of the flames. Men, women and children sat cross-legged and watched as one by one the warriors danced to the rhythmic beat of the drums. Their feet, arms, even their heads kept time with the ever increasing beat. They dipped, swirled, and spun with such control they seemed to become one with their music. James found himself not immune to their creative story telling. Not the finest theaters in London could boast of actors that were more in control of an audience. As each warrior finished his tale he reverted back to the solemn, dignified protector of his people. No white man would believe that such as he could have danced with such exuberance and feeling. But this chance to flamboyantly express one's tale was not free. In payment, as each warrior completed his performance, he placed an offering that would be of value to one of the needy in their camp on a large buffalo robe that was spread out to one side. James carefully lifted the vest of bone and knotted rawhide from his sore chest to allow air to circulate across the scratches there. He impatiently looked around for New Moon.

"Are you looking for New Moon, Uncle?" Buffalo asked with a hint of conspiracy. James turned to see Buffalo making himself comfortable at his side. "Uncle?" He answered with amusement. Buffalo stiffened his back and puffed out his thin chest. "Yes, I have learned that it is a show of respect to call older warriors 'Uncle'." James chuckled. "Have you tried this new form of respect on Thomas?" Buffalo tilted his head as he glanced up at James, an impish grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. James laughed out. "Well, I am honored that you choose to call me Uncle." Ruffling the boy's short topknot he turned his gaze back to the dancers, and his thoughts back to New Moon. "Uncle?" "Yes, Buffalo." The boy sat straight, his face stiff with tension. "When you left to go to the Choctaw you stayed away a long time. Are you planning to stay as long with the Cherokee?" James looked to Buffalo and saw the sweat beading on the boy's forehead and upper lip. "I don't know how long I will be here. Why do you ask?" Buffalo shifted nervously. "I would like to stay with you." "What about your mother?" "She has..." his brow wrinkled, "...found a friend. I do not belong at the post!" He turned to James then, and James recognized the determination as well as the fear of rejection on the boy's features. He had planned to send Buffalo back to the post with Thomas. The thought had not crossed his mind to take on the role of adoptive parent to the boy, not until it had been mentioned earlier by Cloud. Buffalo was obviously becoming anxious by James's hesitation. "I am Indian." He hit his thin chest with his fist. "This is where I belong. With my own kind." James looked back to the dancing. "There is also the blood of a white man running through your veins, Buffalo. Some day you will find that you must learn to accept the two people that are inside you, the white man and the red man." "I know this thing," Buffalo argued. "I have lived all my life at the post with the two types of men you speak of. I have seen very little to be proud of."

The silence stretched out between them until finally Buffalo offered his last argument, "It is right that I should stay here with you awhile and learn about the red man that I will someday be." James took a deep breath. Buffalo was right. The post had been no place for a boy, who wanted and needed to find honor in his heritage. His mother had given up her place among her people. Now it was Buffalo's turn to choose. James tilted his head back and watched the glowing sparks from the flames float upward to disappear into the darkness above. Tomorrow he would send out a runner to let Buffalo's mother know that the boy would stay awhile in Dancing Cloud's village. To Buffalo he said, "You will live with me until your test of manhood is complete. After that, your path will be yours to choose." New Moon stood hidden in the shadows as first Buffalo and then later Cloud made their way to where James sat and watched the dancing. "Why is your heart troubled?" New Moon looked over at Old Woman Who Hears the Spirits Of The Wind. "He is a white man," New Moon answered with some surprise. "Of course he is! I knew that the moment these old eyes looked at him." Old Woman craned her neck forward and squinted her eyes as if having difficulty focusing. New Moon knew the old woman's eyes were sharp. "He should stand up." New Moon was startled and swung her head back in James's direction. "Why? Is there something wrong?" Old Woman chuckled. "Wrong? Of course not. Have you seen his legs, New Moon? They are beautiful." New Moon relaxed. "You are too old to be looking at a warrior's legs, Old Woman," New Moon half-heartedly scolded with a grin. Old Woman straightened her back as best she could and peered up at New Moon. "And you are too young to scold your elders!" "I am sorry, Old Woman. You are right." New Moon turned away and rubbed her hands along the tingling flesh of her arms. "You are wise..." she began but Old Woman interrupted. "Of course I am. I'm old!"

New Moon turned back to her. Old Woman's gruffness did not concern her. "What does the wind tell you? Why has the Great Spirit sent a white man?" A sad smile touched the old woman's lips. "We are not meant to always understand the ways of the Great Spirit, but I will tell you what I know. The Earth is our mother. This you know. All the creatures that live on Mother Earth are brothers. This you know." Old Woman peered up at New Moon with eyes as black as night and as sharp as an eagle's. "The white man is also our brother. He is a brother that will cause us much pain, but a brother still. The winds whisper into my ears that there are many white brothers to come. They will come as boldly as Grandfather River when he rushes through the cove you call your private place. With him he will bring many things strange to us and he will take many things that are dear to us away." Old Woman paused and New Moon thought she was through, then... "There will be a time for mourning what our people have lost. Then the time will come when many of our grandchildren will say: 'We will mourn no more.' They will remember the stories they were told as children and they will tell them to their children and to their grandchildren. These children will feel in their hearts the pride of their ancestors. Then the Great Spirit will look upon them and smile. Then The People will live again." Old Woman looked at New Moon with kind eyes. "Do not fret about what I say. Our people have been here from the beginning. But we have many brothers we have not seen. "Sometimes it is hard for brothers to live together. Sometimes one brother loses his pride. This is a bad thing. But if the brother is wise he will remember what his fathers taught him and he will become strong again. This brother will never lose his pride again and he will be stronger than before. "Our people must go through this time of learning. We must also learn to read his brother's heart. Not all white men are the same." She directed New Moon's gaze back to James. "See how the Blue Eyes talks with Cloud. See how he plays with Sparrow? There are many ways to judge a man's heart. This is my advice to you, young one. Do not judge a warrior's strength by the number of men he kills in battle. Judge him by the love you see in the children's eyes, for in our children's eyes will you see the destiny of our people." New Moon and Old Woman watched in silence as James taught Sparrow a new game of guessing which hand held a stone. Cloud and Buffalo played along as well, sometimes calling it right, sometimes not. James leaned forward and whispered something into Sparrow's ear. After that she chose correctly every time. The two women could easily hear Sparrow's laughter. Finally Cloud stood and led Sparrow away. New Moon and Old Woman saw the child's disappointment and resistance to leave. "Ha!" Old Woman cheered. "See, this is a good white man."

New Moon shrugged, she was tired of Old Woman's riddles. "What about French men, Old Woman? You said not all white men are alike, not all of them bad. I have never seen a French man that you liked." Old Woman's aged face tightened into a pucker and she snorted loudly, "French men are all alike. They all have skinny legs." James stood and stepped from the light of the fire. Old Woman poked New Moon in the ribs with her bony elbow, "Blue Eye looks for you." "He does not look for me, Old Woman. You should not tell such stories." James took no more than two steps, spotted New Moon and Old Woman standing in the shadows and stopped. "I do not tell stories that are untrue," quipped Old Woman. "I have things that need doing." She patted New Moon gently on the arm and disappeared into the darkness. James was surprised to see New Moon standing so close to his position in the circle. The only explanation he could come up with was that she was watching...again. A grin touched his lips. Curious little minx. He took a step in her direction But when he saw her stiffen, he stopped. The look of approval he'd first seen on her face was gone. Her features shifted to a guise of boredom and disinterest. Disinterest? Not likely! He thought with delight. New Moon let her gaze travel over him and he gritted his teeth as he worked to retain control over his body. She stood at least ten feet away from him, yet it felt as if she physically touched him. It didn't matter that she tried to intimidate him with her appraisal. He knew she saw nothing to displease her. Her eyes lingered just below his waist and he gritted his teeth harder. She pointedly cocked her head as if assessing his wounded member, flashed him an exaggerated look of pity and turned to disappear into the darkness. James threw back his head and laughed with sheer pleasure. New Moon was no dainty miss. He gingerly lifted the bone vest from his stinging chest for the hundredth time. He wondered what the blood thirsty little creature would think when she saw his chest. Late into the celebration many of the young people paired off and disappeared into the night to continue their celebrations in each other's arms. James, Thomas, and a few of the more curious warriors sat casually around the dying embers of the fire exchanging stories of bravery until sunrise. As the first rays of morning brightened the eastern sky, they rose to their feet and headed for the stream to greet the dawning of a new day.

A cry for entrance sounded at the gate and all turned around. A young Indian brave sprinted up to Dancing Cloud. According to tradition, he waited respectfully for the Chief to address him. "Welcome," Chief Dancing Cloud's tone was solemn. "I am here," the runner announced. "Yes, you are. It is good," the chief answered in the ritual of generations. The boy fixed his gaze over Cloud's left shoulder, "The warriors of Telleca challenge the warriors of Chota to the Little War." Cloud nodded. "We will be ready when they arrive." The boy turned and sprinted out through the gate. The moment he disappeared, the village seemed to burst with excitement. James watched in amazement as the village, which had only moments before been the picture of calm and contentment, buzzed with keen activity. Lack of sleep was no hindrance to James as he, too, was caught up in the spirit of excitement. He had his own reasons for being anxious for the challengers to arrive. No doubt DuPrey would come with them. James had done his homework. He'd read every scrap of available information on DuPrey. There was little known about DuPrey's physical appearance, only that he was a small man. It was also known that what DuPrey lacked in size he made up for in intelligence and sheer daring. James yanked the bone vest from his stinging chest and handed it to Buffalo. "Take this to our lodge and then come and be by my side." Buffalo grinned from ear to ear. In that simple command James told him he would personally oversee his training. "I will, Uncle." James watched the boy sprint away. The rules of the game become more complicated. He'd known from the start that it would be a test of cunning between himself and DuPrey. Being called uncle by a village boy and overseeing the boy's training would add to the illusion that he belonged here. It could also place Buffalo in some degree of danger. He would just have to see to it that the boy didn't get hurt. Dancing Cloud slapped James on the shoulder. "Come, you must join us. There is much to do in preparation for the game."

Though James had not yet actually been invited to join in on the game, visitors were not often included, with luck he would be. For the time being just being present for the hours it would take to prepare would tempt one of the warriors into challenging him. The Chief had spoken the truth. There was much to be done. There was beadwork to be done to their special breechclouts, which were only worn on such occasions. Also each of the baskets of their ball sticks needed to be repaired and decorated with feathers and other items of special importance to its owner. Last, but not least, a great deal of male grooming must be performed. Heads had to be shaved and chests plucked. Although James would not allow half of his head to be shaved he did agree to the plucking which he found to be tiresome, not to mention painful to the point of torture. He was convinced the sparsely haired warriors found perverse pleasure in his discomfort. Their sniggers gave them away. As evening approached Dancing Cloud's wife served her husband's visitors while they sat and worked beneath the heavy, sprawling branches of on old oak. The massive tree had been there for more summers than the oldest person in their village could remember. Each warrior sat deep in his own thoughts when finally Silent Deer addressed James. "You will join us in the ball play." James's eyes, as they were meant to, were drawn to Silent Deer's large pectoral muscles which he flexed for James's benefit. Silent Deer was a large warrior with exceptional strength. He was also the village's Most Beloved Warrior. He made a habit of strutting about camp, his black hair blowing in the mountain breeze, his chest and arms well greased to show off his muscular form and his legs bare so all could see his graceful power. Children followed behind this big warrior whenever he would allow it. Young women scurried about trying to outdo each other to attract his attention. It seemed only appropriate. In a culture where it was a necessity for a man to be strong and fierce to protect his family, this man symbolized the ideal warrior. James nodded once. This was the invitation for which he waited. It was not uncommon for a warrior to lose his life in this game called The Little War. No blood cry was allowed for such a death. It would be a demonstration of a lack of honor and considered a sign of weakness in the person seeking revenge. He prayed that DuPrey would enter the game. Silent Deer puffed his chest higher and fixed his gaze over James's left shoulder in the typical show of challenge. "Prove your manhood, white man. What do you wager?"

James waited for a long moment, wanting to drag out his response and heighten the tension. The Cherokee were engrossed in betting and often lost all they owned, even parts of their body such as a nose, or ear, or even a finger. And sometimes their lives. The thought echoed in his mind. Strangely enough, the only thing they would not wager was the carefully beaded cloth about their waist. He couldn't fathom why. No one could possibly make the mistake of thinking a warrior modest. In the long, drawn-out silence, only the loud smacking and sucking noises Thomas made over a rack of venison ribs could be heard. "The boy ain't got nothin'' ta bet." Thomas offered into the silence as he paused to study his rack of ribs for any part of greasy meat that might still cling to the smooth bones. "Why, he's as poor as a church mouse!" He sucked his few remaining teeth noisily and then opened his mouth to let a low, rolling belch erupt from between his greasy lips. James pressed his lips tighter to prevent a grin. No doubt Thomas would want something in exchange for that bit of help. Thomas's remark would help to convince Silent Deer of his own attachment to the rifle he intended to wager. His premature thoughts of reluctant praise however, were cut short with Thomas's next words. "Tha only thing he has of value is that crazy horse of his." James slowly turned his head to look at Thomas who winked in response and chuckled with genuine glee before poking another greasy finger into his mouth and noisily sucking it clean. James controlled his features and consoled himself with the thought that any other man would have had both hands placed securely about the old fool's neck by now. Silent Deer allowed a small smile to twitch at the corner of his mouth. "You will lay down horse." This he said with a great deal of smugness. James mentally counted to ten in every language he knew. Deer sat very still, not moving a muscle. "You will lay down horse or you prove nothing," Silent Deer spat. "You are soft like a woman. I have heard stories of your softness," he sneered with disgust. James glanced at Thomas again and raised a questioning brow. At least Thomas had the good grace to look away. Silent Deer pulled James's attention back to himself. "If you are too afraid to make a good bet then you should not be in the game."

This was now serious business. All eyes were on James. The air cracked with tension as the logs sizzled in the fire between them. "What do you put down?" James asked Silent Deer. Silent Deer pulled a knife from its leather sheath at his waist and laid it before the fire. The handle was intricately carved from a deer horn. It looked more ceremonial than useful. James looked from the knife to Silent Deer. A slow cocky smile split his face and Thomas groaned. "You are afraid, Silent Deer," James announced smugly. Silent Deer's expression didn't falter. James pressed on, "If you were so sure of my softness you would not be afraid to lay more by the fire. You will lay down your fire-stick as well." Silent Deer squinted his eyes as he studied the strange white man and then quickly turned his gaze away. "I cannot lay down fire-stick. It is too valuable to me," he intoned seriously. James gritted his teeth ever so slightly, "Then you admit that you are afraid." He intentionally drew out his next words, "You are afraid you have misjudged me. You are afraid I will take your knife and your gun and ride away on my horse. If you do not lay down your knife and your gun too, everyone will know you are afraid of a white man." Silent Deer rose angrily to his feet as he swung his rifle from over his shoulder. He held out the long flintlock with both hands. James also rose to his feet. Silent Deer spoke loudly, "If you are carried from the field by the women before the twentieth ball, your horse will be mine!" James's face held no expression as he answered, "If you are carried by the women from the field before the twentieth ball, your knife and your fire-stick will be mine!" Everyone waited in silence. At last Silent Deer tossed his rifle to the ground to land near the knife. He turned on his heel and stomped off into the darkness. Dancing Cloud sat silently and listened. Mumbling could be heard among the warriors as they talked about how angry the white man was and how Silent Deer had bargained well.

Cloud's heart was made happy to see his friend from across the waters. He had known that someday Robin would come to visit. Dancing Cloud grinned happily. What his friend did not know was that forces stronger than his king summoned him here. Thomas snickered as he followed James to their lodge. "Shit, boy, don't you know that an Indian's firearm is not his most valuable possession. They're easy enough for a red man to get. He just steals um! The red devils are at times inclined to put more store in a string of glass beads they can use to entice some pretty little squaw into giving 'em a good time, than a fire-stick he can steal a dozen times in one day. James stepped into the darkness of the cane and clay lodge as Thomas paused just before the entrance and chuckled again. Without warning a hand shot from the interior of the lodge, gripped a handful of Thomas's rawhide shirt and jerked him forcefully inside. Before Thomas was quite sure what happened, he lay belly-down in the dirt with his head pulled painfully upward. James increased the pressure by shoving a knee into the small of the man's back. Then James actually pressed a sharp blade against Thomas's throat. "Listen here, boy. I done whipped your arse once. You sure you want to try it again?" Thomas half-chuckled. He had to admit, if only to himself, he liked the young man's spunk. And even if he had come out on top in that first encounter, he'd suffered from the painful reminders of that scuffle for days. It was glorious scuffle, even though he suspected James had let him win. James gave a quick tug to Thomas's hair as his knee bore down on his back. He slid the razor sharp blade lightly over the skin of Thomas's neck. Thomas felt the sting of splitting skin and tried to chuckle bravely, but the sound was like a nervous whine even to him. "You just got to calm down...you put a little more pressure on that blade an' it'll cut clean through to my neck bone." He silently reminded himself that the kid was just showing off. James growled as he leaned close and a shiver erupted in Thomas's belly. "You listen to me, old man, and you had better listen closely. Didn't George warn you about me before we left the post?" He gave another quick jerk to his hair. "I lived like one of these savages for the past year-and-a-half that I spent with the Choctaw. I wasn't just with them; I became one of them. And I'm going to get just as close to being a Cherokee. I suggest you don't underestimate me again. "Anything happen to my horse and I will cut you from ear to ear. You got that, old man?" Thomas swallowed hard and found his throat too dry to answer. James allowed him a little slack and he nodded slightly. "Good!" James said with false cheer as he pulled Thomas to his feet. "Now go and keep an eye on Eagle. And you had better hope that no overly zealous brave takes it into his head to steal

him. If he's not where I left him come morning, it's your scalp I'll come looking for." With a hard shove he propelled Thomas outside. As Thomas burst from the doorway, several nearby Indians whooped in fun. When he wiped his hand across his throat and looked at the blood on his fingers, they laughed even harder. Thomas looked at the blood. "I think tha kid got a mite carried away." To the onlookers he waved his arms and yelled, "All right, all right, the show's over. Ya can all go home and go ta bed now." He knew exactly whose lodge he was going to visit tonight. With a chuckle he headed off. Ta hell with the horse! Inside the lodge, James stretched out on his furs as a grin crept across his features. The Cherokee had no way of knowing how proficient he was at the game or how determined he could be when it came to getting what he wanted. His brow furrowed slightly when he thought of Thomas bringing Eagle into the bet. It had taken months of worry and great expense to have the thoroughbred shipped over from England. Horses were rare in Indian Territory. Most of the villagers were still wary of the large animal. But now, with the village's Most Beloved Warrior showing an interest in him the others would be more curious. At least Eagle would be safe enough until after the game. No Indian would steal what was up for wager. After that, only respect for the horse's owner would keep him from being fair game. It was another reason for James to make a good showing. James pulled a robe up over his chilled body and willed the tension from his limbs. Finally, as Morpheus guided him into the blissful realm of dreams, his mind filled with visions of New Moon. Her pride in him was reflected in the dark pools of her eyes as she stared lovingly into his face. A Cherokee magi would have told him that his dreams were messages from the spirits. That they told of what was, or what could be, or what was to come. But to James, dreams were nothing more than a mirror's reflection of what a man already knew in his heart to be so.

CHAPTER SIX As the evening drew near James joined Silent Deer and the other game players outside the Asi, the Cherokee name for a low-built hot house. Here their purification for the game would begin. With a smug grin Silent Deer stepped close to James, "Are you sure you want to join us in the purification?" "Wouldn't miss it for the world," he replied in as solemn a tone as he could muster for such a flippant answer, then threw in a curt nod so Silent Deer would have no difficulty understanding

his intent. Deer slapped him hard on the shoulder before turning and bending low to enter through the small door. James followed his lead. Once inside each took a place around the fire that burned in the center of the small structure. When all were in place they lowered themselves into a cross-legged position. James looked around the circle of warriors. Being allowed to sit with these warriors in the Asi was to be given a great honor. He could have thought it was his past association with Cloud, but no one knew of their friendship. In fact, it was Deer who invited him to play, and was therefore responsible for his presence here. He stole a glance at Deer who sat stiff with his eyes closed. Deer was playing an important role in James's becoming accepted into the tribe. He wondered why. The door flap opened and a young boy stepped from the waning light into the dark, hot house. His job would be to keep the sacred fire burning while the Beloved Old Man told the stories of The Principal People. The old warrior, by reciting the legends, would explain the beginning of their world and the importance of the purification rituals they must now endure. James waited patiently as the old holy man adjusted his aging body for the long night ahead. Beads of sweat rolled down his back and chest as his gaze went again to the Beloved Old Man, and wondered how one of such advanced years could withstand the building heat inside the Asi throughout the long hours of the night. The boy added a handful of kindling to the fire. The crowded, over-hot room grew hotter. Smoke stung his eyes as the tears that ran down his cheeks mingled with the sweat that popped from his pores. The air was thick with the odor of smoke and heated bodies; still the boy added tender to the fire. Finally, the old man cleared his throat and all eyes turned respectfully to him. He began his story quite simply at the beginning. "The earth is a great island floating in a sea of water and is suspended at each of the four points by cords hanging down from the sky vault, which is of solid rock. When the world grows old and worn out, the people will die and the cords will break and let the earth down into the ocean. All will be water again." James closed his eyes and let the low, monotone sounds wash over him. The stories became a thread on a tapestry and the teller a weaver of dreams. His mind glided on the wings of the great eagle and his vision drank in the sights of The People's beginning and their struggle to survive through time. Words that drifted through his consciousness called him a warrior, a protector of his people, one whose love for his people, his homeland, and all of nature was stronger than his fear of death. Pride of being a warrior filled him.

A sense of solid earth beneath him came upon him gradually. The voice that had carried him along for an unknown time became louder, the words more distinct. The old man was telling of the first ball play between the birds and the animals and why the spirits of only the fastest and most cunning of those first ball-players would be called on to aid them in their game. Then there were no more words. James opened his eyes to see the old man rise stiffly to his feet and hobble on stiffened limbs to the short doorway and raise the flap of heavy hide. The warriors pushed to their feet and filed out of the Asi as calmly as they had filed in. James felt wobbly on his feet but did not show it. The slow walk to the water was in itself a test of will. The solemn row of players stopped a few feet from the gently flowing water and removed the only piece of clothing they wore. Here they waited silently for the next test of endurance. The old man walked up to James and held a comb of bone before his face. James obediently looked at the comb and nodded. Though he had played the game before with the Choctaw, he had never endured the purification ritual. The honor, he reminded himself, had been bestowed upon him by Deer's invitation. And honor was how he must view this torture. Few white men were ever allowed to experience these tests. Too much depended on the ability to endure. The old priest placed the sharp teeth of the comb to James's shoulder and raked it down the length of his arm. Satisfied that the white man did not flinch he moved from his side to stand directly in front of him. His boisterous chanting paused as he stared in confusion at the four angry, red whelps that New Moon in her anger had stretched across James's chest. James tightened his lips to control a grin. There was no telling what the old man thought. Ancient eyes lifted to his and there was no doubt that whatever thoughts were going through the priest's mind, it was not going to bode well for him. He was not mistaken. The old man moved stiffly to his other side and watched the white man's face closely as he pushed the sharp points of the bone well below the skin line and then drew it slowly down. James focused his eyes on the dark horizon, and did not flinch. Giving a satisfied grunt the ancient soul moved to the next warrior. James felt the warm blood running freely down his arm to drip from his fingertips. The bleeding would stop soon. He was not concerned. If DuPrey were successful in turning the support of the Cherokee to the French, there would be much more white man's blood than his own feeding the soil of this world.

Just as the sun stained the eastern skies with its first fiery rays the holy man ran the sharp comb down the last arm and gave the command for the warriors to go to water. The coldness of the mountain stream stung the deep scrapes on James's arms as it forced the heat from his body, causing the bile to rise in his throat and his muscles to contract in painful spasms. With iron control he forced himself to dip, as did the others, below the surface seven times. Once this was completed and the final prayer spoken by the magi, the warriors lined up and sang as they marched toward the playing field. The village watched their warriors coming forward in silent awe, but as soon as the first foot touched the field the loud cheering and whooping of the crowd drowned out the warrior's song. James and Silent Deer fought like the warriors they were. Between them they disabled six of the opponents. Everyone knew the two had a wager going, and each was trying to outdo the other but in so doing they were single- handedly winning the game for their team. James's only regret was that DuPrey was not on the playing field. As the game wore on, Dancing Cloud observed his sister. New Moon, unaware of her audience, watched James with rapt attention. She watched the long heavy muscles of his legs as he ran and jumped and her heart beat faster. She watched the rippling play of strength along his back as he swung the ball stick and her stomach tightened. His great strength was obvious to the eye, but she had not expected the stamina or the skill he displayed. She never expected a white man to last so long. One of the opponents struck a vicious blow across James's body with the hard wooden ball-stick and she cringed. Why should she care, she reprimanded herself. She couldn't stop the small smile that curled her lips when he delivered his own bone-cracking blow. Even though blood flowed freely from his nose and facial wounds to drip and smear along his powerful chest, he continued to push, run, throw, and punch his way rapidly about the field. This game would be remembered for a long time to come. New Moon stole a glance at her brother, Cloud. His face glowed with pride as he watched the blue eyes. She contemplated her brother's recent actions as well as his obvious pride in this white man. There was something here she did not know. Her mind drifted to a story her brother often told of a white man, one he had come to know while visiting in a land called Eng-land. Her eyes turned back to James. Dancing Cloud had said the man was tall, and built like a warrior. In fact, Cloud said he was a warrior, one of the Great White Father's best and most beloved warriors.

She watched closely as James ran with the ball stick. Not only did she observe the play of his muscles but the form of his movements as he swung the stick as if it were a kind of weapon unknown to her. Maybe they had a similar game in the land called Eng-land. Cloud said everyone called him by a woman's name, Robin. Cloud teased him about it until his new friend explained to him that the name was for the color red rather than for the small bird. Since the color red to The People represented war and fearlessness in battle, Cloud understood the significance of his name. He admitted that, though they chose a feminine representative for the color, it was a good name. It had been told as a lesson to the children of the village that one must look closely to see the color of a man's heart. New Moon had never heard of a white man called by an Indian name before. If he were accepted into the village the old magi would give him another Indian name. New Moon grinned, she was certain he was the warrior from Cloud's stories. Her body tingled. She didn't mind so much this time. She should have recognized sooner that he was a true warrior. She tilted her head to one side and studied the white man from a new perspective. When had he actually shown fear or weakness? He'd shown no fear when he rode into the village with Thomas, only wonderment. Without the least show of awe or discomfort he sat down with the chiefs and conducted business. He teased the children. He even dared to touch her! And she had hurt him. Why had he allowed it? A warrior with only half the skill he demonstrated would have been able to prevent it, but he had not expected her to fight back. Her strength had surprised him. The only other break in his composure was when she stepped from her hiding place among the cane. She'd thought then that his reaction was one of fear, was sure it was fear, but he did not back down. Every warrior knows fear, she reminded herself. Fear is not a bad thing. This newcomer to their village was more a warrior than she had first noticed. Memory of her vision drifted before her mind's eye. James ducked a swinging stick and swung his own out to catch behind the knees of his most recent antagonist. The unfortunate warrior fell hard on his back as James leapt nimbly over him and jumped, higher than his bulk should have allowed, and caught the ball with his stick. He swung the stick sharply around and sent the twentieth ball to pass neatly between the goal sticks at the moment two opponents hit him from different directions. The three bodies fell to the ground in a tangled mass. New Moon stood rooted to the spot while spectators from both teams rushed onto the field in a frenzy of excitement. Within moments James was raised above the heads of the warriors and ceremoniously carried from the field.

New Moon watched as his arms dangled from his body. Unreasonable anger flared in her heart as she dashed toward the receding parade. She pushed and shoved her way to the warriors that carried him on their shoulders. Dashing around them she planted herself firmly in their path. "Stop!" she demanded as she placed a small, yet determined hand on a broad chest. "I must see his wounds!" The warrior looked down in puzzlement, "If he were wounded we would take him to the Medicine Man. Get out of our way, woman! He has need of water." At the sound of New Moon's voice James rose up from his precarious perch and looked groggily down at her. With the most irritating grin he said, "Did you see that, Little Wa-sa?" Then in a serious tone he added with an impudent swing of his arm that nearly toppled him to the ground, "Get out of the way, woman. I must go to water." The warriors laughed with great merriment as they stumbled with their load and made a wide circle around New Moon. How could she have been so foolish? The white man was nothing to her. He was a no thing! But in her heart a seed of doubt had been planted. "Little sister." New Moon turned toward Dancing Cloud before focusing her vision somewhere over his left shoulder. "Why have you not told everyone who he is?" She demanded petulantly. "So you remember the story." Cloud did not hide his pride in her for her cleverness. He studied the firm set of her jaw and found amusement in the way she refused to look at him from beneath lowered lashes. "How long have you known?" He asked, not letting his amusement make its way to her ear. "Just today. Why have you not told anyone?" she persisted. Dancing Cloud studied her proud profile. Cherokee warriors did not look eye to eye when they spoke, but rather straight ahead over the other's shoulder. It was their way of proclaiming their independence. This show of independence was not tolerated often in women, who should drop their chin and lower their eyes to show proper respect, but Cloud did not scold New Moon. It pleased him to show tolerance of her uncommon forwardness. New Moon's husband had called her Little Sparrow with Eagle's Heart. The name suited her. And like the eagle, when her sharp eyes saw what her heart desired there would be no escaping her. He wondered how long it would take his friend, Robin, to come to understand that he was the prey of an eagle.

"The other chiefs know. So does Silent Deer. My friend wants to prove himself to the village. He has already proven himself to me." Cloud was unable to resist turning his eyes to New Moon. "Maybe to you as well?" New Moon jerked toward her brother, and stared into his eyes, an act that would have made a weaker man angry. Dancing Cloud only smiled with affection. New Moon stiffened, her brother played with her. She hated that he was always right. After a short while, her eyes slid back to the horizon. "Not yet!" She snapped and walked away, leaving him standing alone. A happy twinkle brightened Dancing Cloud's eyes. "It makes my heart happy to see you again my sister. You have hidden behind your grief for too long." New Moon did not hear, or chose not to answer.

CHAPTER SEVEN James woke sore and stiff. He needed to stretch and loosen his muscles, but first he would go to water and greet the morning sun. He looked up at the sound of someone nearing his lodge. "It is Silent Deer. May I enter?" "Yes, come in." James reached for his loincloth. Silent Deer's grin looked out of place on such a fierce, ragged face. He and Deer had reached a new level of understanding since the game. They respected each other. In this culture that was about as close as you could get to friendship. "You sleep much too long, my friend. It is late," Deer scolded. "Well I'm up now, let's go." James slapped Silent Deer on the shoulder and followed him through the doorway. "You have been to New Moon's cove. Would you like to go again?" "New Moon's cove, is it. No wonder it made her so mad when I showed up. I'm afraid she would scalp us both if we went there today." "No, she is not there. Today she is with the women where she belongs." James didn't miss the hint of sarcasm in Deer's voice. As they sprinted through the gate Silent Deer broke the silence that had settled over them. "You want New Moon." James rather liked the Indian's straightforwardness. "New Moon is a beautiful woman."

As they reached the boulder that lead to the cove Deer reached out a hand and placed it on the smooth surface. "She is barren," he tossed over his shoulder and then slipped between the boulders. The cove was beautiful. It had quickly become one of James's favorite places but he hardly noticed it now. "Why do you tell me this?" The two stripped down and waded into the water. This time James led the way. He had the distinct feeling that such a thing as who stepped out first would hold more influence over Deer than most. "New Moon has great pride." Deer said from behind. "Like that of the warrior. She says she will not join again because her spirit is too strong for any man to give her a child." "I am not looking for a wife, Deer." Deer took his place beside...yet slightly ahead of James. James controlled an urge to inch forward. He was, after all, the invited guest. "If I understand your custom," James continued, "it would be no dishonor to New Moon if she came to me." "It would be no dishonor, she is a widow and may chose a man if she desires." Deer shrugged his massive shoulders. "But she will not come. You do not understand, my friend. "New Moon is a woman of my tribe. We are the same clan, the wolf clan. If you dishonor her by taking what she does not offer, I will kill you. If I fail, there will be others. It does not matter that we are friends." Deer glanced over at James. "You should find a woman that likes you more, then maybe you would not wear your need for New Moon like a warrior's spear." An auburn brow arched. There it was: the warning. He was not one of them. It was going to take more than a game of stickball. "I didn't know I was being so obvious." Deer cut in gruffly, "Enough talk. Grandmother sun is about to show herself." James and Silent Deer performed the ceremony with proper respect, but James's mind was elsewhere. Maybe Silent Deer was right. He had been parading around camp like a buck with the sent of a doe up his nostrils. One good tumble with a willing squaw and he'd be able to get his mind back on his business. Why go crazy for a woman with too much pride for her own good? All he needed was a little feminine companionship for a night or two. The two waded to shore. "I'd like to thank you for your advice, friend. You..."

The rest of what James would have said was cut off by the sound of alarm coming from the village. He and Deer grabbed up their loincloths and dressed themselves on the run as they dashed toward the village. *** Christoph DuPrey stood partially concealed behind a large oak. The early morning air was cold, but that was not what made his body tremble. He took in several deep breaths and watched with interest as Chief Dancing Cloud told New Moon about the attack on their group. The battle had been exhilarating! However, it had not gone as planned. Seven of his men had been killed. He had not expected that many to fall in the attack, but one could not control the red savages. They would get the scent of blood up their nostrils, and even the best-laid plans would go astray. The task of killing New Moon's brother had fallen on him. What if he had been seen? Hell, he was seen, but he took care of that one easy enough, and the rest of his noble savages escaped with none made the wiser. He shook himself. The leftover adrenaline still pumped, and he had to clear his mind. DuPrey gritted his teeth. The next step was not going as planned either. Cloud had been expected to allow him to accompany New Moon on the warpath, but the chief had refused. That damn breed was Cloud's choice instead. Well, it didn't matter. All was not lost...not by a long-shot. He had not gotten this far by not being quick on his feet. New Moon took the news of her brother's death just as he knew she would. There were no sighs of grief, no weakness. Her pride would not allow it. DuPrey rubbed at his crouch. She was perfect, she was beautiful, she excited him, and she was the Great Dancing Cloud's sister. His marriage to her...his body stirred at the thought...would serve his lusts and his mission. New Moon turned away as her brother, Cloud, departed to go to the council. She stood stiffly, her gaze locked on a single leaf dangling precariously from a broken twig which held stubbornly to a crooked branch. Would the slight breeze break the grip of the leaf and send it spiraling on the currents of the winds? Was her brother's soul still traveling on that same breeze to join her husband? A thin figure moved from behind a tree that stood several feet away. It was the Frenchman DuPrey. He was there after her husband's death as well. Her body trembled in warning as he moved purposefully in her direction. There was something not to be trusted about this Frenchman. The chief of Great Telleco may have allowed him to join their tribe, but he did not belong here. Without waiting for him to reach her, she turned and walked away.

*** Once inside the walls of the village James and Silent Deer were met by Dancing Cloud. "Our brothers were attacked yesterday on their way to their own village." The pain could be heard in his voice as he spoke loudly to be heard above the sad wailing of the village women. James found the sound unnerving. "The warriors who survived the attack are here to ask for our help. Come with me to the council fire. It is this way." When they arrived James was not surprised to hear the Frenchman, DuPrey, speaking in the native tongue. He was well known for his ability to persuade others. He was now attempting to manipulate an entire tribe. "The French soldiers would be willing to aid their brothers in this battle against the Mohawk. These attacks are happening over and over." The little Frenchman waved his arms as he talked, adding strength to his words. "The Mohawk do not respect the Cherokee as warriors. With help from your French brothers you could conquer this enemy for all time. Their hearts..." he hit his chest in a dramatic gesture, "will be filled with respect. They will be too fearful to send another raiding party into your lands." James watched the face of his friend, Dancing Cloud. He saw too much consideration there for the Frenchman's words. Tribes of Mohawk presently sided with the English in this yet unofficial tug of war with the French. If DuPrey proved able to draw the Cherokee into a war with the Mohawk Nation it would seriously unbalance England's control at the frontier. That war had to be averted. Such a war would find the English settlers on the frontier caught up to their hips in a blood bath. It was his mission to remove DuPrey from the Cherokee without creating an incident between the English and The People. If a way did not present itself soon, the cunning Frenchman would have more fires started than he and the whole of King George's special troops could put out, he mused with an amount of unwanted respect. He turned to DuPrey. "How many were in this party that attacked you?" he asked in Cherokee. DuPrey's eyes darted about the gathered counsel. "We counted ten. We killed all but three." With an indignant air he added firmly, "The attack was unwarranted. The blood of our brothers calls out to be avenged. We must retaliate!" DuPrey's eyes bulged with indignation. James wondered how this small, ugly man could have so much influence. His narrow face and long pointed nose gave him the appearance of a rat, but in his eyes James could see a store of

intelligence and deceit. The man did not need size; he had the cunning of a fox and the poison of a viper. James stood silently for a few moments, his eyes locked over DuPrey's left shoulder as he listened to the mumbling of the others. The warriors were understandably upset. Finally, unable to hold his words a moment longer, he broke his silence, "There were many more of you. Why did you not go after them yourselves rather than come back here?" James saw a flash of anger in the other's eyes. "The warriors are tired, from the game." The little man appeared the picture of concern, but James was not fooled. Neither was DuPrey. On this, their first real encounter, they were on opposing sides of an issue. "Besides," DuPrey continued. "One of the warriors killed had a blood relation in this village. It was only proper that we bring his body here since he had no male relative in our village to avenge his death, and his wife traveled with us." James nodded in acknowledgment before he turned to Cloud. "This is a difficulty among our people. The remainder of the raiding party is small. We can handle them among ourselves. To bring in the French would be taking steps toward a much larger war and more blood to be avenged. All that is needed at this time is to avenge the cry on only a few evil men. We must consider our women and children." Dancing Cloud stared thoughtfully into the fire. "The People are fierce and brave warriors." Cloud spoke without looking up. "We are not afraid to go to war, but we must choose our path wisely. If we call in the French to help with a war against the Mohawk, would not the Mohawk ask the English to help them? Your words are filled with wisdom. Such a war would cause much death and bloodshed. This would be a bad thing. We should send a war party out to avenge the blood cry against these three evil men." The mumbling continued a short time and then one by one all agreed with Dancing Cloud's wise suggestion. James rose to his feet and turned to walk from the fire but stopped short as he saw New Moon. He didn't know what he expected to see, but it most assuredly was not what met his eyes. Her face and bare chest were painted with red and black stain. Covering her hips and shapely legs were the loincloth and leggings of the warrior. He did not know how long he stood staring in disbelief. His eyes lowered to her firm, round breast, their sensuality somehow heightened by the bold colors. To his chagrin he felt his body respond.

His face became hot with his anger. Who did she think to fool? Any man with eyes in his head would know she was a woman! It may be true that some Cherokee women accompanied their warriors into war, but not New Moon. He would not allow it! Dancing Cloud watched the play of emotions on his friend's face and saw the battle he fought within himself. Robin still had much to learn about control. Cloud doubted if New Moon's own lack of control at this point would enable her to convince Robin to consent to what she wanted. Dancing Cloud moved toward James. He would have to brave her anger and give her a hand. Cloud stood beside James. "One of the warriors killed was New Moon's brother." James swung his head to look at his friend. "The warrior DuPrey spoke of, he was your and New Moon's brother?" "Yes." "Does your heart lead you to join the war party?" James asked as his understanding of the tension in the village grew. "My heart is greatly saddened, but my responsibility to my people outweighs my own pain. I fear that the death of my brother is meant to draw my people into a plan of the white men. I will remain here with most of the warriors." "I understand my friend, and I also fear the plans of the French. My heart is saddened by your loss. I ask if I may go on the war path in your place, to avenge your loss and to answer the blood cry of your brother." Cloud's answering smile was one of sadness and gratitude. "Yes, it will be allowed. I ask one more thing of you." "If it is in my power, I will do it." "Take New Moon with you. The cry is strong in her heart. First it was her husband...and now...our brother." James was taken back. "Why must she go with me?" "When a woman is allowed to go to war it is to help her warrior, to chew his bullets, or mend his bow, or tend his wounds, and if need be, fight at his side -- but she is not to be placed in a position of great danger. My little sister's heart is heavy. I fear this will make her reckless. It will take a warrior with great strength to keep her safe during this blood cry. So you see, my friend, what I ask of you will be very difficult and is very important to me. DuPrey asked if he could be the one to take her. I told him no. You are the one." James stiffened. There it was again; the 'you are the one', statement. "You knew I would not refuse you."

A twinkle came to the Chief's sad eyes. "When I was in your land you said you could never refuse a good fight. This, my friend, is a good fight." "What did New Moon say about this arrangement?" Cloud shrugged his shoulders in a nonchalant gesture, "She is angry with me. But not so much that she will let it stop her. She told me I meddle in her life."

CHAPTER EIGHT As James moved toward the Asi he was intercepted by New Moon. It had been four hours since he agreed to take her on the warpath, four hours of purging his guts out beside the other members of their party. He really did not feel up to a confrontation. He looked down at her. She still wore the warrior's paint. It would be three days more before the men would come out of the Asi. He wondered briefly if she would go through her own form of purification in preparation for the warpath. Without saying a word she held out a bag of parched corn flour. His gaze traveled slowly to her hand, not missing any part of her anatomy in between. It slid over the rise of her high check bones, lingered over her firm pouting lips, followed along her gently rounded shoulder, and over her arm to rest finally on the extended hand which held out the offering. He was struck by the fervency in which these people held to their traditions. She was angry, probably with him for being the Chief's choice. Angry or not, he was...the one...so she would pledge herself to him for the duration of the warpath. By taking her offering, he accepted the responsibility of her safety. He couldn't suppress a grin. He placed his palm flat against the back of her hand. His eyes searched hers, and for a moment he saw his own reaction to their touch reflected in their black depths. Still without a word, she slid skin against skin as she tilted her hand over and allowed the small bag to slip from her fingers to his. Silent Deer stepped up behind James. He physically turned James toward the Asi, "Come, it is time to go in." *** At the end of three days, the warriors emerged from the Asi. After going to water they gathered in the center of the village. Silent Deer was appointed by their chief to be their Opae, their war leader. It would be his responsibility to carry their ark of war, a small wooden box containing sacred and magical articles. Very bad medicine would befall them should this box fall to the hands of their enemy.

White Fox was appointed as their Hetissu, beloved waiter. He was the only other person allowed to touch the medicine box. Only he could place it on Deer's shoulders each morning and remove it each night. Fox was also required to ration the meager supply of corn flour and present it to each warrior from his own hand at the end of the day. The two large men stepped into the center of the circle of warriors and accepted their assignment with pride. They would require the strictest observance of the holy laws of war and each would protect the sacred box with his life. The Opae raised his rifle above his head and fired the first shot, quickly followed by a loud volley as the warriors whooped and danced around in their excitement to at last begin the search that would end the cry for blood. With the grand gestures of the ceremony, the Opae turned and led the others in a quick march from the village. As the warriors marched through the gate the Opae struck up a solemn song sung only on such occasions. The warriors followed in one line at the distance of three or four steps apart. New Moon fell in line next to James. He glanced down at her and chuckled softly. She cut her eyes at him. This was a solemn occasion, one that warranted no laughter or speech. "It just crossed my mind, Little Wa-sa," he whispered softly for her hearing only, "how much safer my back feels with you at my side." "Humph!" New Moon turned her face away to stare straight ahead. The march and song continued until the party moved well out of the villagers' hearing; then the song came to an abrupt halt and their pace picked up to a brisk trot. They were no longer individual men, but rather one with nature. The rest of the journey would be conducted in the strictest silence. Each must have the hearing and cunning of the fox. Their small black eyes, and one pair of striking blue, would be as sharp as an eagle's and their tread as silent and graceful as the panther. They traveled for hours, climbing over rocks when necessary, sprinting through dense forest when they could. New Moon remembered her fantasy of running at the white man's side, and glanced up at him through her lashes. You are surprising, white man. You run like a warrior on the first day, but will your heart carry you to the last? She asked him with her mind. She turned her gaze back to the path they traveled. In the fading light the path narrowed, causing them to move closer together. She could feel him beside her, an almost physical caress spanning the gap between them. New Moon glanced again in his direction. Though he stood tall, well above her height, and his heavily muscled body was larger than any warrior of her village, he ran with ease. The heavy

muscles of his thighs flexed and smoothed as they carried him silently and effortlessly. He breathed evenly without stress. She breathed in deeply. His powerful body carried the smell of sweat and the scent of the pollen they passed through, but not the strong unclean odor that the white men were known for. She stumbled in the fading light but was not allowed to fall as James's arm shot out and grabbed her about the waist. Without changing his pace, he swung her into his arms. Startled by the swiftness of his movement she threw her arms about his neck. He didn't look at her but continued on at the same pace. She stared into his face. Do you think to carry me? She asked with her eyes, and was shocked to realize that was exactly what he intended to do. Putting a hand to his face, she tried to make him look at her, but he kept his gaze straight ahead. Silently she studied the expressionless features and tried to quell the tiny quiver in her stomach that first appeared when he'd kissed her. So she mused. You will not look at me, but you are as aware of me as I am of you. He took a quick glance at her swelling ankle. Only a tiny muscle in his cheek revealed the grinding of his teeth. The slight movement drew her eyes to a circular scar on his cheek so small she had not seen it before. It sat on the place of his cheek where a deep crease appeared each time he smiled. She thought how she would like to see it now. As if by magic, it appeared. Her eyes flew to the darkening horizon, but her entire body, being held tight to his own, felt not only the moist warmth of his bare flesh and gentle beat of his heart against her side, but the silent rumble from his withheld laughter. It seemed he was forever laughing at her. Strangely enough, rather than becoming angry, her senses were filled with happiness. New Moon was surprised that Silent Deer did not indicate for James to take her back. The three days of purification had given their prey too much distance. Deer would not allow the party to be slowed down by a woman. So far the white man broke no taboos; but if he could not keep up, she was sure they would both be sent back to the village. Silent Deer raised a hand to indicate it was time to stop. White Fox searched for the proper logs or stones on which their holy vessel could rest. Once this was done he carefully lifted the small box from Deer's shoulders to its resting- place. As soon as the ark was removed, Silent Deer strode purposefully up to James and looked hard at New Moon's ankle. On this trip New Moon was a warrior. If she was unable to keep up she would be sent back. If she slowed the hunt, she would be sent back. He looked at New Moon, and to James's surprise she lowered her lashes and nodded her head in understanding.

James tightened his hold and his fingers dug into the soft flesh of her side. New Moon turned her head and looked into at his face. His eyes were hard and his jaw worked beneath his cheek. He was angry. At what? Her show of respect to their war leader? She glared back. Did he understand nothing? Deer looked hard at James. With a quick nod of his head he indicated for James to put New Moon down. James did so reluctantly. New Moon stood, most of her weight on her uninjured leg, her back straight and her intention of staying with the party etched into her features. Deer did not take his eyes from New Moon as Fox passed among them and gave each one his ration of corn flour. As New Moon washed down her share with a quick drink from her water pouch, he turned on his heel and strode away. As Fox had set the holy box on stone, James carried New Moon to a small flat boulder. At least, New Moon told herself, he understands that much. He lowered her gently to its surface and then knelt down to examine her ankle. New Moon squeezed her fists tightly, digging her nails into her palms. Her ankle hurt terribly. She watched James closely as he examined her foot and leg. As his lines of worry disappeared, she felt herself relax. When he looked up at her she could see past the cold, unemotional expression he had learned from her people to the fatigue in his eyes. He rose smoothly to his feet. Bending, he slid an arm beneath her knees, one behind her back and lifted as easily as one would a small child. He continued to cradle her as he turned and sat down on the boulder. Light from the bright moon cast the forest in which they rested into silent, motionless shadows. One by one the warriors disappeared into the darkness. New Moon's rebel stomach rumbled with hunger and James surprised her by quickly putting a hand to her naked belly. Beneath the gentle touch she knew he could feel her body's complaint in its need for nourishment. Though darkness lay heavy over the forest, it did not shield her from the anger and impatience that shown in his eyes. New Moon stiffened as her mind screamed in silent defiance, I will prove myself to you, Blue Eyes. You will see that I am a warrior with a warrior's heart. If you do not, then you will not be the one; and I will not walk the path with you. James's expression was hard as he reached for his pack. He withdrew a handful of meal and held it up to her face. She swung her head from side to side and he tightened his grip on her as he brought his hand closer to her face.

New Moon challenged him again with her eyes. If I deny you, Blue Eyes, will you dishonor me by sending me back? As if he could read her thoughts, his grip tightened threateningly. She could feel the muscles of his upper arm pressing into her back as his fingers dug into her side. I will eat your corn, white man, but you have proven nothing. She placed both her smaller hands to his and pressed her tongue to the course meal. Her hunger overtook her. She ate all he offered and drank just as freely from his water pouch. When he was satisfied that she had taken enough, he put his things away and massaged her ankle. Shifting, New Moon protested the gentle treatment. It was not the way of a warrior to show such gentleness to a woman who did not belong to him. Even though the vision told her she would walk the path with this white man, it did not mean she would belong to him! This was something he must understand. She pulled her leg back and his hard fingers tightened like new rope around her weakened ankle. She glared into his eyes. He had the upper hand for now, she decided. She might as well relax and take advantage of his foolishness. He would not be able to finish the war march if he continued to coddle her. A small smile touched her lips as she settled more comfortably into his lap. She was the wiser...and she would win this battle of wills. Soon her body slumped and she slipped into sleep. Warriors took turns watching for danger and James felt sure they watched him just as closely. He was painfully aware he treaded dangerous ground. DuPrey, who took much too much interest in his every move, must not be given a reason to question his actions. Before the first hint of morning brightened the sky, the Hetissu gave each warrior and New Moon a measure of rations. She attempted to refuse when Fox offered her an extra portion, but James shook her briskly. Pointing to the meal in Fox's hand James frowned menacingly. New Moon's black eyes flashed defiantly, but she did as he instructed. The other warriors visibly relaxed when she complied. James walked a short distance from the others and quietly answered his call of nature. He was relieved that New Moon gave him no real trouble over his silent command to eat, but he hadn't missed the resentment in her eyes. She remained such a puzzle to him. She was so different from the other woman of the village with their downcast eyes and submissive ways. Hell! New Moon was different from any woman he'd ever known. She had more pride than a prancing stallion. Obviously she meant to prove something. He wanted New Moon to see him as a warrior, one worthy of her respect. Maybe he needed to allow her the same chance to prove herself.

He had coddled her as if she were a white woman. Tonight he would allow her to sleep at his feet. She would not like it if he did not acknowledge her strength and pride at being a woman of The Principal People. With quick jerks he adjusted his covering. He would not, however, allow her pride to endanger her or the war party. If I can get her back to camp with my purification still in tack I'll deserve the biggest damn war bonnet Cloud has got. Thanks a lot, ol' friend. He turned back to New Moon. New Moon watched as he turned and walked in her direction. There was something different about the way he carried himself, about the way he looked down at her. He took her by her arm and led her around a small boulder and out of sight of the others. Then he walked backed the way he'd brought her and positioned himself where both she and the warriors could see him. There he stood with his back to her while she stared at the broad expanse of his shoulders in utter disbelief. This was almost more than she could stand. Anger coursed through her like a flooding river. He is standing watch over me! She fumed silently. Because she allowed him to hold her through the night he decided she was weak? She studied the broad shoulders, the slim hips that were barely covered by a narrow strip of deer hide, and his strong legs, braced wide apart, his feet firmly planted. It was a stance of protection! He was declaring to all that he would protect her! She was not there to be protected! She was at war! Her whole body quaked with indignation. He turned and walked purposefully up to her. Reaching out he took hold of her waistcloth with both hands. New Moon gasped as she jerked away and backed up. His brows gathered in a lopsided query while a smile touched his lips. Grinding her teeth together she forced her anger under control. She was at his mercy, for now. If she refused any of his demands he could take her back to the village. Cloud would never allow her to go with the war party again. With her eyes never leaving his, she angrily pulled her loincloth out of the way and squatted.With a condescending nod James turned his back and walked a few paces away to wait for her to finish. For now she would do what she had to do, but she would make him pay!

CHAPTER NINE The second day proceeded much like the first except New Moon did not falter. As the day aged, James slowed his pace so by nightfall they ran at the back of the procession.

New Moon resented his slower pace and sped up. A strong hand shot out to grasp her upper arm. She pulled against his grip, but his fingers dug into her flesh like steel bands. He yanked her to his side, not forcing her to run behind him, as any other warrior would have done. Still, his actions toward her left no doubt that, though permissive, he definitely remained in control. Like a parent with a child! Her anger seethed within her. Again, as the shadows of night closed in around them, James cradled New Moon in his arms and rubbed her ankle. She did not offer resistance. It would not stop him, and the attention to her ankle was greatly needed. After several minutes of massage he cut a strip from his waistcloth and tied it around her ankle. Using water from his own water pouch, he soaked the bandage through. The night air on the wet hide sent a chill through her tired limbs, but it felt wonderful on her swollen joint. With grudging respect she admitted to herself that what he did was good medicine. The cold compress would lessen the swelling by morning. Finally, satisfied with his handy work, he sat her gently to the forest floor. New Moon tried to rise, but James took her upper arms in an iron grip and pushed her down again. New Moon sought refuge in the heat of anger. Anger was better than the feeling of frustration and helplessness that assailed her. She was helpless. There was nothing she could do ...and keep her honor. Turning to her side in a huff, she squeezed her eyes shut. A tiny tear of frustration escaped to make its way across her face. He is enjoying making me bend to him! I can sleep sitting up the same as any warrior! She dug her fingers into the hard packed soil as she fought to control her tears, but they flowed afresh as her heart screamed out in silent anguish. He treats me like a weak squaw! If he cannot accept me as a woman from the warrior's clan...I will not accept him! She fumed silently. He does not want a woman that will fight at his side. No, he wants a weak squaw who will lie at his feet and look up at him with great weeping eyes, one who will scurry off to do his every bidding. He wants one who will spend her nights laboring for his pleasure. Well, he can have his squaw! She slapped the ground with her hand. When we get back to camp I will give my blessing to the first squaw who sets her eyes in his direction! Suddenly the vision of a woman, her hair the color of corn silks came to New Moon. In this waking dream James held the small woman tenderly within his massive arms while she looked up at him with eyes the color of a summer sky. New Moon trembled with the knowledge that this was a vision of what was to come. ***

As the third day wore on with no sight of their prey, James found he could not concentrate long on looking for sign before his mind went back to New Moon. She accepted his instruction that morning without resistance; but it was obvious, as Dancing Cloud would say, that her heart was bad. New Moon stumbled, but James forced himself to ignore her and ran on, as did the other warriors. The sad sound of a whippoorwill broke gently on the breeze. The warriors stopped to kneel down and listen. In a few moments the signal repeated. In unison they rose and hurried toward the sound to see what the scout found. The three warriors who scouted ahead that morning had not returned as expected. Now, as the warriors approached with caution, they knew the worst had happened. James stood at a distance and let his eyes travel over the macabre scene. Blood covered the area...the ground...the rocks...the trees. Scattered about, like so many pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, were the body parts of the scouting party. He felt sick. James, concerned about how New Moon would handle the dismemberment of her friends, turned to offer her his support. He stopped and drew back. Her stance afforded him no liberty to intrude. No trace of tears showed in New Moon's eyes, no tiny tremors passing through her body; her face had not paled at the sight, but he could feel her sorrow as keenly as if it had reached out and touched him. He beheld her strength with a measure of awe. Never had he seen a woman hold her grief so tightly within her. It wasn't good. He wanted to carry her from the scene so she could cry out her anguish the way any other woman would. Did she think such behavior would make her look weak? Is this what it meant to her to be a warrior? The warriors moved about in silence as they scraped three shallow graves into the hard rocky ground. With the use of a stick or branch, for it would defile them to touch a dead body, the body parts were distributed among the graves. There was no way to know if the body parts placed with each head were from the same person. Everyone, including New Moon, set about collecting the largest rocks they could carry or roll to pile over each gravesite. From this time on any Cherokee that passed the three piles of stone would know that three warriors were buried there. They would use this spot to rest and to offer up prayers of honor and praise for the brave warriors. James looked up into the branches that stretched overhead and let the sounds of the forest soothe him. He looked back to the graves. It was a good place to rest. It was fitting.

At the end of the third day, long after the others disappeared into the shadows of the forest, James looked down at New Moon trying to sleep at his feet. This high into the mountains, the nights were frigid even in the summer. New Moon shuddered and James wondered if it was from the damp and cold or if she remembered the sight of brave and beautiful warriors reduced to bloody pieces of unrecognizable flesh. He reached down and pulled her resisting body into his arms. He did not think she could keep up the present pace many more days. Dark smudges lay beneath her eyes, and her gait had faltered several times before the party finally stopped for the night. He shook her gently to stop her protest, but she struggled harder. His own exhaustion and uncertainty over allowing her to come was wearing on him. Without thinking, he broke the rule of silence and whispered harshly in her ear, "Be still, woman! You'll not make it another day if you don't rest. Settle down and sleep, or I promise I'll take you back in the morning!" In his heart he knew he'd not take her back...it had become a point of honor and his own desire to prove himself to her. Her opinion of him became more and more important. He knew he could seduce her and the joining would be magnificent, but what about after the passion was spent? Her thoughts toward him would be no more than his own had been for the women he'd used in his lust. The thought did not sit well with him. Taking a deep breath New Moon relaxed and snuggled into the warmth of his arms. She slipped one arm around his waist to his back as she rubbed the open palm of the other over his chest. His muscles tightened and bunched as he tried to resist her warm touch. His reaction seemed to encourage her as she snuggled her face beneath his chin and nibbled at his neck. His entire body trembled as heat leapt from every point of contact and surged through his veins. Her fingers twined in his hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him close. She brought her lips to his ear and whispered softly, as her fingers kneaded the firm muscles of his chest, "Are you sure your thoughts are pure, warrior?" He wanted her. Oh, hell. He wanted her in a way he'd never wanted another woman in his life. He was on fire. He drew in a deep breath as he moved his hand up her back. Taking a handful of her hair he slowly pulled her head away from his neck and lowered his lips to her ear. He whispered her name, and he felt her tense. For all of his traitorous body's response, James knew this was another battle of wills. His anger flared almost as hot as his lust for her. She tested him again and again, but her actions would backfire. He was not the only one affected by her vicious teasing.

As he traced the lobe of her ear with his tongue he felt her shiver. His hardened body surged with need in response. He pulled her closer and pushed himself against her. Shock wave after shock wave of sheer desire pounded from the core of his being to his groin. He slid his free hand down the outside of her thigh and slowly moved it over the top of her leg to rest his searching fingers on the inside of her knee. As he nibbled at her ear, he pushed her legs apart and slid his hand to the top edge of her leggings. There he gently caressed the tender part of her inner thigh. Inch by inch he moved upward. A soft moan escaped from between her lips, and he fought for control. Her fingers closed over his and she pulled, trying to bring his hand higher. Every nerve in his body screamed for him to continue. He was so close, it would be so easy, but he forced his body to become passive, his breath to become slow and even. New Moon immediately became aware of the change in him. When he spoke, she shivered at the cold, calculating way he said each word. "The way I see it, Little Wa-sa." His words cut into her like a sharp knife. He was going to reject her again. But this time would be worse. The emotion she heard in his voice was anger, not the barely contained desire she had heard before. "I could either break purification and return to the village in disgrace," he continued coldly, "or I could drop you on your pretty little backside and let you avenge your damned blood lust the best way you know how." The next thing New Moon knew, James dumped her to the ground and strode casually away. Her fingers gripped the ground as anger and pain welled up within her heart. For the second time he'd played with her, proved to her that he was more in control of her body than she was. She lay down on the damp ground and knew there would be little sleep this night. The hollow ache in her belly grew. When she thought her heart could hold no more pain, the pale face of a beautiful young white woman floated in the darkness before her. She squeezed her eyes shut, but the face remained to haunt her in her dreams.

CHAPTER TEN The fourth day found the war party traveling cautiously toward the lower Cherokee town of Keeowhee, located on a river of the same name. James, though still with the war party, had not looked once in New Moon's direction. He was sure the other warriors would be thankful. They were closing in on their prey, which had proven to be as difficult to track and as deadly as Grandfather Snake. It was imperative that each warrior has his mind on finding and following the signs, or risk endangering the entire party.

James was angry with himself for his cruelty the night before, angry and confused. He was angry with himself for allowing what he'd seen to affect the way he'd treated New Moon, and confused about her attitude toward him. No woman had ever been so difficult for him to understand; or maybe it was his own emotions he was having difficulty with. She was attracted to him; there was no doubt about that. So why then did he not take her on her own terms? The terms were not unfamiliar to him. Perhaps once his lust was relieved he'd be able to think more clearly and see her as just another woman. A liaison with no strings attached. He looked up and caught sight of New Moon a few paces to his left. She handed DuPrey his quiver! Why would she do that? He wasn't her warrior on this warpath! James's movement was swift and silent as he bore down on the two. DuPrey, seeing his approach, turned and silently disappeared into the forest. James reached out and took New Moon's upper arm in a firm grip and jerked her around to face him. Hard blue eyes glared into cold black, which refused to be intimidated. James knew his hold on her arm was painful and fought for control of his emotions. He had never been heavy-handed to a woman and he didn't intend to start now. What was she doing to him? He had almost done the unthinkable and forced a confrontation that would have shot all his well-laid plans to hell. New Moon's eyes flashed, her cute little chin raised defiantly. He relaxed his grip as a grin forced its way onto his lips. Pushing this little wa-sa was dangerous and he had the scars to prove it. Slipping his quiver from his shoulder he placed it on hers. He watched in amusement as New Moon fumed like a boiling kettle. What a contradiction she was, angry because he didn't treat her like a squaw and even angrier when he did. As he turned from her to stalk into the woods, he swore to himself that the next time he pushed her to the ground it would not be to lie alone. *** New Moon showed signs of fatigue as the party made its way over and through the last of the rocky ledges in their descent to the lower town. James slowed his pace. As a result they were the last to leave the mountains. Earlier the enemy trail forked so their party split up to cover a larger area, hoping to encircle the three they tracked. James did not know what alerted him, but he swung around to face New Moon on the trail behind him. New Moon, seeing him tense even before he turned, dove to one side. There, where she would have been had she not jumped aside, stood a Mohawk warrior.

As New Moon rolled to safety, the warriors collided in mid-air. She had not realized how exhausted she was, but now her fatigue weighed her down. Or was it fear? The Mohawk was large, almost as large as James. Their muscles strained as they wrestled, hands locked to each other's wrists. It was a matter of strength, of who would hold back the other's blade while making use of his own. Suddenly James dropped and New Moon's heart skipped a beat. The Mohawk, his support collapsing beneath him, flew forward to flip and land heavily on his back. James sprang to his feet immediately. Just as the Mohawk gained his footing, James's kick knocked the knife from his hand. The Mohawk looked from his numb fingers into the eyes of his opponent. As his black eyes locked with those of cold, clear blue he staggered. Never before had he seen eyes the color of the sky, except when he'd dreamed of his own death.... James with his uncanny ability to know another man's thoughts, spoke to him in the beloved tongue of the Cherokee, "You are looking at your death. Will you die well?" The Mohawk answered in the same tongue, "My name is Screaming Eagle. I am a Great warrior. I have killed many of my enemies. I have protected my village! When it is time for me to die, I will die well!" With this he snatched a small tomahawk from his side and charged. If New Moon had been frightened before, she was in total paralysis now. The two warriors fought like wild dogs. They punched and gouged each other. They stabbed and swung with such speed and anger that blood flew from the melee and she could not tell whose blood flowed the heavier. Finally James saw an opening. He drove the blade deep into the diaphragm of the Mohawk and up to pierce his heart. James and Screaming Eagle were locked in a dance of death, which kept New Moon from knowing which was the victor. As Screaming Eagle looked deep into the strange blue eyes and felt his life slipping from him, he heard James whisper respectfully in the beloved tongue of the Mohawk, "You have truly died well, warrior." The men broke apart as they dropped to the ground and rolled away from each other. New Moon watched for any sign of life from James. She hated the way fear clung to her insides as she scrambled toward his blood-covered body. Before she could reach him, he rose smoothly to his feet and she slumped to the ground in relief. With only a quick glance at New Moon, James moved silently to the fallen Mohawk. He dropped to his knees at the fallen warrior's side and reached down to take hold of his stiff scalp lock. Jerking the head up by the hair he slid his knife beneath the skin of his scalp. With a primitive grunt he jerked the hair up as it rent the last few inches from the fallen man's skull.

James held the scalp high above his own head and felt the warm blood drip onto his upturned face. He fought to refrain from whooping in his exuberance as the adrenaline surged through his body like a savage madness. James turned to New Moon. She could see the bright glow of victory in his eyes and watched as he rose to his feet. He crossed the space that separated them in a few long steps. He retrieved both his own quiver and hers and slung them over his shoulder before reaching down to jerk New Moon to her feet. Without a word he roughly pushed her ahead of him. New Moon's emotions swung so quickly from fear to rage that her head swam. It was all she could do not to stagger. So now that he has killed a man in my sight he thinks I'll be properly submissive, she silently fumed. He takes my quiver and would proclaim me weak to the others! He pushed her again and she stumbled forward. *** Silent Deer turned to watch as James and New Moon approached. James was covered in blood, but his easy movement indicated a lack of any serious wounds. After a quick assessing gaze Silent Deer's attention went to the scalp at James's waist. The warriors crowded around James and the air became electric with evidence of the first recounting of the blood lust. The hushed silence was pierced by the shrill squeal of an eagle cry and the warriors immediately bounded into the countryside. James looked up and watched the flight of the proud and noble bird until he was out of sight. New Moon pushed irritably at James's shoulder. When he turned his attention to her she pointed to Yellow Hawk who signed for them to move. The three slipped silently down the bank into the Keeowhee River. Several feet above and below their position, more warriors did the same. As they made their way up the opposite bank, a war whoop sounded to their right. James, New Moon, and Yellow Hawk dashed toward the battle, their voices raised in answering call. Two Mohawk warriors were sheltered behind a fallen log and were losing their arrows as rapidly as any James had seen. Once all the war party assembled, they advanced on the two. When the battle finally ended, it was to reveal one Mohawk dead to nine fallen Cherokee, one of whom was New Moon.

CHAPTER ELEVEN James spotted her first. Her left arm and head were draped backward over a heavy log. The rest of her body was not visible from where he stood, but the stalk and feathers of an arrow were. Fear gathered like a fist in the back of his throat.

His heart screamed out, but his voice was lost to him over the loud din in his own ears. A small newborn spark within his soul began to dim. He swung around to see the Mohawk stripped and being prepared for the trail back to Chota, and something inside him snapped. A sudden roar filled with pain and anguish erupted from his lungs. He raised his hatchet. His vision no longer included what was around him, only the Mohawk...only him...and New Moon lying lifeless behind him. Another anguished scream rent the frigid morning air and James wondered briefly if the sound had come from him. How could he have let this happen? The strength of his legs sent him flying forward. He was only partially aware of the three strong bodies that blocked his path and wrestled him to the ground. Through the buzz of anger and grief that rang loudly in his ears the sound of Silent Deer's voice reached him. "You will stop this. We will take him back to Chota Town. It is right that all the village witness his death." James gave a mighty heave, breaking the other's hold on him. "It is right that I kill him myself! Now!" Three heavy bodies slammed him back to the ground and held him pinned. "There are many that feel the same as you. Would you deprive them of their blood lust?" The words were spoken by New Moon. Relief filled him with a shudder. His breath came in shaky heaves. With renewed strength he shoved the three heavy bodies away and scrambled to his feet. New Moon stood propped against the large, rough trunk of a tall pine. An arrow protruded from her right shoulder. The shank had already been broken just below the feathers and James knew she must have broken it herself. Walking on unsteady legs he moved toward her. Her knees buckled and he sprang forward. He slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her left side up against his body. Pressing her back against the tree, he reached with trembling fingers to touch her face. What was happening to him? The little baggage had been nothing but trouble from the time he laid eyes on her. She pressed and tested him at every turn, now that spark of irritating boldness was slowly withering in his arms and all he could think about was how he desperately wanted to see the fire flash in her eyes and hear her voice whisper his name. His fingers traced her pale lips and then traveled downward to the arrow shaft. There was so much blood. It flowed down to where their bodies touched and he could feel the warm stickiness

against his stomach. The flow of blood had to be stopped. He pressed his fingers around the arrow shaft in an attempt to slow the flow. New Moon stiffened and James's gaze flew to her face, not wanting to cause her more pain. She looked directly at the Mohawk. "I am New Moon, warrior of Chota Town. I am not dead, but you soon will travel that path. Will you die well, warrior?" James felt as if he floated in a space somewhere between two realities but not quite in either one as he turned his head to see the Mohawk's response. The Mohawk smiled as he looked into her eyes and James felt a strange sense of jealousy at the near intimacy, knowing that at that moment for New Moon and the Mohawk no others existed. "I am Winds Blowing. I will die well, squaw!" New Moon turned her face to spit upon the ground and then slowly turned her gaze back to her enemy. "This squaw will witness your death." New Moon looked up at James and he saw what he thought was a flicker of reassurance before her eyelids fluttered and then closed. As she slumped forward he stooped and scooped her into his arms. Cradling her protectively he carried her to a thick bed of pine needles and lowered her gently to the ground. He gripped his strong fingers around her wrist and felt for a pulse. It was weak and slow, so slow! "You must stay behind and care for her. If your medicine is strong she will live." James looked at Silent Deer. "When she is well enough take her back to the village." "No!" James's head swung back around to New Moon. He couldn't believe she spoke. Her pulse came stronger now. "I will enter the village with the war party," she continued in a steady voice. Silent Deer looked from New Moon to James and back to New Moon before he finally acquiesced and nodded solemnly. "Keep her here until she can travel. We will wait for you at the first campsite." Moon closed her eyes and her head lolled to one side. This slipping in and out of consciousness concerned James more that he cared to think about. He looked anxiously to Deer.

"She will live," Deer reassured him. "She is in the death sleep. I will remove the point and show you which herbs and growing plants are the best medicine. Then our warriors must leave. We will be at the first camp sight after the sun has traveled the sky seven times. If you are not there we will wait that long again. If you are not back by then I will come to look for you. I will pray to the Great Spirit that your medicine is strong." "I understand," James answered, and he did know. The meaning in Silent Deer's words was easy to understand. New Moon's safety had been his responsibility. James pressed a finger to New Moon's throat and felt another moment of fear when he didn't feel a pulse right away. "She is in the death sleep," Silent Deer said as if speaking to a child who had difficulty understand. "Her heart beats slow, but it is strong. She will survive if her spirit chooses life over death. Now, listen well to my instructions." "I will care for her," James answered softly and it felt as if he'd taken an oath. For him, he had. Fox built a small fire in which to heat his knife blade. Spotted Hawk went in search of plants to use as a poultice and others for a tonic. James watched in stunned silence as Deer removed the point. Nothing was given to New Moon for pain, yet not a sound slipped past her lips, nor did a frown crease her forehead. Once the wound was cauterized and Spotted Hawk covered it with a thick paste prepared from white pine bark, Deer leaned close to New Moon and said gently, "Drink." New Moon fluttered her eyes open and raised up with Deer's assistance. He placed a water skin that had been filled with a warm tea steeped from catnip leaves and lily roots to her pale lips. She drank deeply, closed her eyes once again, and slumped limply against Deer's shoulder. James looked to Deer who shrugged. "The death sleep. She will wake when you need her to drink." *** Two days after the party left, New Moon's body became hot and she tossed restlessly. James knew she was no longer in the death sleep, but was in the throes of a high fever. In her fever-induced sleep she began to speak. At first the words were incoherent, disjointed ramblings, then little by little the words became understandable. "This can not be true, there will never be another." He smoothed the hair back from her forehead. "You are not alone," he told her gently. "Rest easy."

"He does not even like me," she answered in a small voice and a sob slipped from between her lips. It felt as if a knife turned within his heart. Never had it occurred to him that this proud woman could be insecure. How had his actions done this to her? He hung his head. He had deliberately tried to show her that he was stronger, more capable. He looked at her. Her cheeks were flushed with fever. "Who is the insecure one here, Little Wa-sa? Who am I to come into your life and try to prove you less than you are? You are brave, and strong, and more beautiful than any other woman, in your world or mine." But New Moon wasn't any other woman. When he held her in his arms, it was like rediscovering a part of himself, a part that had been lost and suddenly found. The first time he held her in the cornfield and she had molded herself to him he'd felt a communion with her body. When she stepped out from cover and spoke to a mountain cat that could have killed within the space of an eye blink, as if it were a friend, he'd felt her courage bond them together. When she viewed the mutilation of the warriors she had known from childhood, he'd felt as one with her spirit. Being tied to just one woman had never been in his plans, yet now he knew he would never be complete without her. He picked up the strips of cloth he'd used for her ankle only days before and soaked them with water from his water skin. The water supply was low, he realized, and cursed softly under his breath. Though two of the warriors left their water skins behind, their supply would soon be gone. He drank little himself, but denied New Moon none in her weakened and feverish state. It was a full day's run to the next mountain spring. He could not leave her here unprotected, but moving her would be extremely risky. Yet, he had no other choice. New Moon shivered and cried out in her delirium for his warmth. He knew he must withhold it. It was imperative that her fever cool. She called out again. Taking her hand in his he forced himself not to take her into his arms, as he wanted so desperately to do. Instead he whispered softly, "You must fight the fever, Little Wa-sa." A smile touched her lips and his heart lurched. "Only my warrior calls me Little Wa-sa," she whispered.

Her words and the tone of affection he'd heard surprised him. "So I am your warrior, am I?" He answered with a sad smile. "You sound like a possessive little baggage..." His voice cracked. He was even more surprised by the emotion her words had caused to rise within him. He reached out with a trembling hand for the skin that held the last of their water. As he bathed her hot forehead he prayed to the Great Spirit of her people and to the God he'd known all his life. Her mumbling became more pronounced as she spoke of a new path and the warrior to come. It sounded like none of the stories he'd heard told by the old women to the children or by the Magi during the purification ceremony. She turned her head in his direction and looked into his eyes, her own clouded over with fever, "Are you the one? I must know." It was the same question he'd heard so many times since his arrival. "Do you want me to be?" he whispered. She didn't appear to hear him as she asked the question over and over, her eyes now darting from one unseen point to another. He took her face between his strong hands and turned her face to his. Peering deep into her eyes he answered her, knowing he spoke the truth, "Yes, I am the one, Little Wa-sa." *** New Moon fought to swim up from the murky depths. All around her was wet, and cold, and clinging. Her mind felt dull, but she must think. There was something she must do if only she could remember. She was so tired, so very, very tired. The darkness moved in closer. NO! She must not let it claim her. She fought. "I am the one, Little Wa-sa. I will not let you go. Come back to me." Someone spoke to her. The darkness receded only slightly but it was enough. Her determination returned. So cold. She trembled. "Come back to me, Wa-sa." It is so dark, so cold. Did she say that? "Come back to me, Wa-sa. I will warm you." She felt warmth. It started across her shoulders and moved down to her arms. Something warm and soft touched her lips. She opened her mouth to the soft warmth and liquid slid down her throat and she swallowed. Her eyelids were heavy, but she struggled to open them. His face appeared close to hers, his beloved face. He took another drink into his own mouth and lowered his lips to hers once again. She drank deeply before slipping once again into the death sleep.

James closed his eyes as he pulled her closer within his embrace.

CHAPTER TWELVE New Moon scooped a piece of deer meat from her shallow bowl and popped it into her mouth. It was her first solid food in days and it tasted wonderful. James boiled the meat until it was tender and seasoned it with wild onions and acorns. He managed to find a hive of bees and stole a honey rich comb. The sweet nectar dripped from warm corn cakes he'd made from the last of their meal. New Moon ate ravenously. A drop of sticky honey slid slowly down her chin, and she quickly caught it with her finger and poked it into her mouth to suck the sweet nectar from her skin. At that moment she glanced up to see James watching her with intense interest. Minor explosions erupted in her lower stomach. "Are you enjoying your meal, Little Wa-sa?" New Moon smiled as she placed her empty bowl to one side. "Yes, I enjoyed it very much. You are a good provider." She liked the sound of his voice when he wasn't angry with her. She also liked the deep shade of blue she saw in his eyes. "Will you teach me the death sleep?" New Moon blinked a couple of times. Of all the things she might expect to hear from him at this moment, that question was not one of them. She was not blind. She had seen the need in his eyes, had felt it during the night when he held her so tightly against himself to keep her warm. Was this a game they played? She could play as well as he. "The death sleep is not for a white man to know." She glanced over to the water skin lying on the ground next to James's feet. "I am thirsty. Is there enough water left for me to have a small drink?" James picked up the full skin and handed it to her. "Do you think I will not be able to learn the technique?" There is little I think you could not learn, she thought to herself, but held her tongue. She took the water skin and measured its weight within her hand. Her gaze slid up to his. "This skin is full." "Yes, so are the others. You haven't answered my question. Do you believe I would not be able to learn the death sleep?"

New Moon's expression was full of question. James loved the way her brow furrowed. He wondered how she would look in passion. He shook himself. His mind was wandering again, he scolded himself. "You must answer me first. Where did you get this water? The closest stream is a day's run from here." James chuckled, "Okay, Littler Wa-sa, I will tell you. Two nights ago I heard the sound of water. I followed the sound until I came upon a small, clear stream." Her heart beat hard at her wonderment over what she heard. "The next evening I refilled the skins again. The funniest thing, though," his brow furrowed in confusion, "today I could not find the same stream in the light of day. Now that you're better, I do not have the time to continue looking. We must get you to that first campsite before Silent Deer comes looking for my scalp. Another time I will come back to this place and search for it." James watched New Moon's face. He felt relieved to finally tell someone about the stream. He had risen at first light to search for the meadow, but it was nowhere to be found. If not for the filled skins and New Moon's rapidly improving condition, he would think the whole thing had been a dream. Maybe it was a dream if the look on New Moon's face was any indication. She watched him as if he'd just sprouted horns and a tail. "You found Lake Ataga'hi?" James felt the tiny hair on his arms rise. "I have never heard of this Lake Ataga'hi." New Moon opened the pouch and poured a small amount of water into her hand. It looked like any other water. She brought her hand to her mouth and licked the water from her skin. Tying off the top of the pouch she spoke to James, "I will teach you the death sleep." "Good!" James proclaimed happily, but could not fathom the change in her. "When we camp tonight we will begin the lessons." Wasting no more time, James gathered the water pouches and slung them over his back. Having already returned the campsite to the forest, the only remaining task was to clean out New Moon's stone bowl and toss it back to nature. This done, he lifted New Moon into his arms and started off toward Chota Town.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN Seven days later James and New Moon met the war party at the campsite outside Chota Town. "You look well, New Moon." Silent Deer commented.

New Moon took a few steps away from the others with Silent Deer as James neared the prisoner. "I am no longer sick," she told him. "The wound is almost healed." Deer looked over to James who was unsuccessfully interrogating the prisoner. "The wound was bad. His medicine is strong." "The Great Spirit led him to Ataga'hi." Deer's head swung in New Moon's direction. He searched her features for any sign of jesting and decided she was telling the truth. He looked back to James. With a deep grunt and one last glance at New Moon he strode away. The war party broke from cover and advanced toward the village, whooping and shouting in the usual exuberance of returning heroes. Villagers poured out the narrow gateway to encircle the returning warriors. Their faces shown bright with excitement as they alternately wailed, laughed, and whooped with the warriors. The small band was escorted to a clearing beside the river, where a tall pole stood waiting for their captive. Here he would suffer the fiery death. If he faced death well it would not only bring honor to himself and his family but to his captors as well. Suddenly, the Mohawk slammed into DuPrey, knocking him to the ground. He quickly jumped over the fallen Frenchman and proceeded to knock down Silent Deer as well. DuPrey stumbled as he attempted to gain his footing and also collided with Silent Deer. In the few moments of shocked immobility, the Mohawk dashed past the wooden stake, dove into the river, and swam to the other side. The entire village seemed to wake up at the same time. Warriors pulled up their bows and began to loose their arrows as others jumped into the river to make chase after their quickly escaping afternoon entertainment. Arrows struck the water all around the Mohawk, and hit the ground about him as he climbed the steep bank. As he reached the top of the bank, he looked back over his shoulder at the swarming villagers. He let out a fierce and joyful whoop, stuck his naked backside in their direction and slapped it soundly twice before disappearing in the undergrowth. DuPrey laughed loudly and many confused faces turned his way. "He is a great warrior. His magic is strong!" He shouted in explanation of his laughter. The villagers looked to one another and then to their chief who nodded in agreement. Several of the warriors continued in the chase, the loud whoop -- whoop of the villagers sounded behind them to better cheer them on and to honor the bravery and tenacity of the Mohawk warrior.

James would have joined the others had not New Moon reached out and taken his arm. "His spirit is strong, but yours is stronger because the Spirit showed you Ataga'hi. You will someday face him again. For now he is free." James could not believe his ears. "Are you telling me to just let him go, after what you have gone through!" New Moon was unperturbed. "What I just went through brought you to Lake Ataga'hi. You are now a true member of the village." She turned so she could look him in the face. "I know you now." She turned and walked away. James had no time to wonder about her strange words before villagers surrounded him. Dark hands reached out from all directions to pat his body and to hurry him toward the village. As James passed between the walls of the gate he held the scalp above his head. The children swarmed him to jump and swing their tiny hands in hopes of touching the hair of a fallen warrior. Two steps inside the walled fortress James stopped dead in his tracks. Before him stood Akachee and beside her Gentle Rain, large with child. New Moon looked at the two women. One, her body heavy with age cried tears of joy and great pride. The other, her young body heavy with child, had a face that gleamed with happiness, but New Moon saw sadness there as well. New Moon looked at James and saw the softness in his eyes as he looked at the two. The first word from his mouth, the Choctaw word meaning mother, caused her to stare again at the two women. This had never been revealed in her dreams! "Akachee!" James shouted with joy and then, "Gentle Rain!" He held out his arms. If they had been afraid to run to him sooner they were not now. They flew into his welcoming embrace. He wrapped his great arms about both of then and squeezed until they squealed happily. So unsettled by this sight was New Moon that she did not hear her brother approach and jumped when he said, "We must welcome our newest warrior's family." New Moon masked the emotion in her eyes but not before Dancing Cloud read the hurt and confusion there.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN New Moon watched with a heavy heart as James greeted the two women. Her throat tightened painfully as whispered gossip floated like the foul smell of a dead animal on the breeze. No one in the village knew how her warrior came to be called son by the old Choctaw woman, or in what way he was bound to the young pregnant one who called herself Gentle Rain.

The Chief had allowed the women to enter their village. They were to be watched and treated with tolerance, but not questioned. However, after the warm greeting everyone just witnessed, every conceivable possibility was being speculated on. The Choctaw were not a tribe at peace with the Principal People. Yet now that the Chief's friend -- one who so recently proved himself on the warpath -- had welcomed them, they would be welcome as long as James remained with the tribe. New Moon watched Cloud walk over to welcome James. The Choctaw women did not tarry when they spotted the chief's approach, but hurried away using the beaten path that wove throughout the village. New Moon squeezed her eyes shut. "I will not so easily accept the women of enemies into our village," The fierce whisper slipped from between stiff lips. "I will learn what hold this pregnant one has on my warrior, and I will sever it!" A small hand slid into hers causing her to jump. What kind of a warrior was she becoming to be startled twice in a matter of a few minutes? "Little Sparrow, I did not see you," she apologized and hoped no one noticed her agitation. "I know, my aunt. You look very upset." She stifled a moan. If a child noticed, then everyone in the village did as well. New Moon took a slow breath and forced a smile for the little girl who looked at her with worried eyes. "It was a difficult blood cry and, did you not see, our prisoner has just escaped." Little Sparrow looked incredulous, a comical expression for one so young. "I would be more upset about those women," she pointed accusingly in the direction the visiting women had taken, "than your prisoner." New Moon clucked her playfully under the chin, though playful was not at all what she felt. "And when did you become so wise?" Sparrow provided New Moon her one true joy in life since her husband's death. The child could be no closer to her heart if she were her own daughter. New Moon indicated her own lodge. "I must retrieve my bathing moss." "This is good, my Aunt. You need to wash this paint from your body. I have missed you. You will not go on another blood lust after the one that escaped? I do not think that you should." The girl kept up a continuous chatter all the way to New Moon's lodge and while her aunt gathered her things. As they went down the path that lead to the rear of the village, Sparrow asked the first question to which she expected an answer, "Why are you going this way? You never bathe in the creek."

Sparrow waited, but New Moon did not answer. "I know what you are doing." Sparrow sounded smug. "You are going to watch those women." Still New Moon did not answer, but hurried on. Unlike her lodge, which was situated near the front of the village, James's lodge was located near the back. It was the practice of every village to house their unproved visitors to the rear of the settlement. No doubt, James would now be allowed to have his women build for him a lodge in the center of the village. New Moon ground her teeth again in vexation. It didn't matter that she could hear Sparrow complaining about her pace. She would not slow down. Following the path around a sharp bend, New Moon suddenly stopped. James's lodge was up ahead. Sparrow, still complaining about the pace her Aunt was traveling, bumped into New Moon. Without looking back at the girl New Moon's hand shot out to steady her before she could fall. It was remarkable what the two women had accomplished after only a few days in the village. Both lodges, summer and winter were white washed so thoroughly they glistened in the sunlight. Two small pens and one larger were repaired. One of the small pens held a large pig noisily rooting by a wooden trough, while chickens leisurely pecked at the hard packed ground. The women were in plain sight. They worked busily at tightening ropes on a deerskin they stretched. Before the doorway of the summer lodge, the long- bench lay covered with a variety of bowls and baskets at various stages of completion. New Moon snorted. "Their baskets are not as pretty as our baskets." "No they are not," Sparrow agreed. "You should go back and play with your friends." "I don't want to. I want to stay with you." New Moon sighed with exasperation. "There is no reason to stay with me. I am only going to go to water." "But you are going to watch those women first. Don't you want me to tell you all about them?" "I doubt there is anything you can tell me that I can't see for myself." New Moon turned her attention back to James's lodge.

His stallion in the larger pen stood perfectly still in the swirl of motion that surrounded him. He looked with curiosity in her direction. His ears perked up and rotated forward as he sniffed the air and whined gently. The Choctaw women ignored him. "See," New Moon pointed. "The pony is proving his worth but the women ignore him." "There is someone standing in this very spot every day watching them, New Moon. I think they know someone is here now." New Moon ignored Sparrow as she looked toward the small garden that accompanied the dwelling. The plot had been cleared, and the soil broken up. No doubt it had been seeded with fall vegetables. "This is truly too much to have been done by an old woman and a pregnant one. Who helped them? Who in this village would be so quick to help two women from the flat-head tribe, a tribe at war with our people?" As if in answer to her question a young man in buckskins stepped from around the far side of the summer lodge. He handed a water skin to each woman and spoke to her in the language of the French. The young man stood tall, thin; his black hair was pulled back and tied with a strip of raw hide. Sparrow started to speak but New Moon raised a hand to silence her. For once, Sparrow obediently held her comments. New Moon's attention was totally focused on this new development. This one...this thin-as-areed one ...moved with a natural grace, but she did not believe he had lived long in their lands. After handing each woman a skin of water, he carried a third with him and moved down the path to the only other lodge their village had for visitors. Two visitor lodges were an indication of their village's size. Most visitors stayed with family. Only the largest and most important villages had need of two. It was not often that both lodges were occupied. To New Moon, it was a bad omen. Sparrow had held her tongue as long as she could. "That is how." She sounded peevish. "I can see, Sparrow. Now go back and play with your friends." New Moon did not mean to sound irritated but...by the Great Spirit! She was irritated! Sparrow let all the rejection she felt show in her eyes as she looked up at the woman she loved almost as much as her own mother. New Moon smiled down at her and felt a twinge of remorse for speaking harshly to her, but she could not stay. After caressing the child's chubby cheek with a finger she mouthed one silent word, "Go!"

New Moon watched Sparrow leave, but as soon as the young girl was out of sight she turned back toward James's lodge. She wrapped her arms about herself and rubbed her hands along her upper arms to smooth out the tiny bumps that tingled along her skin. She now understood how the women had gotten so much accomplished; Skinny Reed had helped them. What was wrong with her brother that he would allow two Choctaw women and a French man into their village? Without another glance at the visitors, New Moon marched angrily past the lodges on her way to the stream. She came this way with a hand full of moss, she might as well go to water and cool the warrior's blood that at this moment pounded like war drums through her veins. Lieutenant Beauregard Smythe looked up. His mouth dropped open, as his jaw became slack with surprise. He had heard stories about Cherokee women dressing themselves as warriors and going with the men on the warpath, but he didn't expect them to look like this one. She must be the woman who accompanied the colonel. No wonder he went if it meant she would be at his side. Her head held high and her back straight, she walked with a bold stride into the wind. It lifted her long, black hair and kept it afloat in an ebony cloud that followed her. He swallowed hard. As she came closer he could see that her brow was furrowed, and her eyes flashed with an unknown emotion. The expression did not detract from her rare beauty, but rather added to the illusion of a proud warrior. His gaze traveled lower. Long rawhide leggings and a bright red waistcloth, which reached to her knees in front and in back, hid the shape of her legs. Yet, the odd masculine garb did not disguise the narrow tapering of her waist or her curved hips any more than the bold red and black paint streaked across her chest took away from the fullness of her breast. Realizing he stood in a growing puddle of water from the pouch, which had slipped unknowingly from his hand, he cursed under his breath. Just as suddenly a grin appeared and spread across his face. He had been commissioned to learn all he could. He'd never seen a woman warrior. By his way of thinking, it was his duty to follow her. He snatched up the water skin and squeezed it between his large hands in his haste to empty its remaining water. After a quick shake of the pouch and a few seconds to compose himself he stepped out onto the path and fell in behind the woman warrior. He knew the routine. The women of the village gathered at the far end of the stream to bathe. Further upstream, where the water flowed into their village beneath the wall of their fortress, the fish traps were placed. Just below that, the women were allowed to draw water for drinking and cooking and so on downstream to where, finally, the women were allowed to bathe at the farthest point before the water exited the village beneath the far wall.

Smythe understood this procedure. He was even impressed with their reasoning, but being a newly returned warrior, the beautiful woman he followed would have no way of knowing all had been explained to him. Hence, his excuse for going to the wrong end of the creek to gather water. He grinned at his own cleverness. He watched as New Moon made her way around the cane that sheltered the bathing pond from the village and waited a short while for her to occupy herself with her bath. After a few moments he strode around the natural cover. If he were caught, he reasoned with himself, he'd simply claim he was going for water. It was a stupid and cowardly excuse for a lieutenant about to take the role of voyeur. But things were different out here. A thing totally unacceptable in polite society somehow seemed natural in the here and now. Smythe watched as she unlaced the tall moccasins and slowly eased the leggings downward. She seemed to be unaware of her audience as she removed the bright red waistcloth. Slowly, tauntingly, she raised her arms to run her fingers through her hair before she climbed up on a low, flat overhand of rock and dove into the water. He hurried to the water's edge and watched her with great interest. She swam leisurely toward the far bank and there she began to bathe. Soon the paint was gone and her skin shone a dusky rose from her scrubbing. He watched as she rolled to her back and floated along the surface. Her up- thrust breast peeped teasingly from the gentle waves caused by the motion of her legs as she paddled. Would his Gentle Rain be so promiscuous? No, he told himself. This woman was nothing like Gentle Rain. Resentment rose up in him for the colonel and for his part in Gentle Rain's life. Soon the bath was over and the warrior woman swam toward the bank where her clothes and he waited. Smythe backed up several feet to give her room to climb up over the rocks and retrieve her warrior's garb. As she reached for her clothes she looked in his direction. Her eyes met his and she smiled. She laughed softly as she reached down to take up the bright red strip of cloth. Wrapping it about her waist, she fashioned for herself a short skirt. She then squatted to gather her war clothing up into her arms. When she rose up again it was with smooth, flawless grace. Her gaze traveled the length of him as she glided forward. She obviously took no offense at his watching her. Maybe there was nothing between her and the colonel after all. She didn't slow as she neared him, but instead made to pass him on the narrow path. Wanting to stop her, he raised a hand to place on her shoulder, but froze mere inches from his goal.

His gaze moved up from her shoulder to meet her eyes. In them he saw a glint of humor and no small amount of challenge lurking in their ebony depths. He lowered his gaze again, but this time he looked lower to the sharp steel point pressing threateningly against his crotch. A half-grin spread across his tanned face, "Now where did you have that concealed?" he asked in French as he let his hand drop slowly to his side. New Moon knew the tongue of the French and so understood his words. She was satisfied that he was not going to press her and lowered her knife. With her chin held high, she moved past while Thin as A Reed watched, his head tilted to one side and a lopsided grin playing at the corner of his mouth. New Moon did not look back at the white man. She should have felt if not fear, at least weariness from his behavior, but she had not. He would not try to hurt her. She had seen that in his eyes. It was good he withdrew with her warning. At one time the fact that a French man looked at her with such boldness would have been enough for her to kill him. Now things were not so simple. Now she belonged to a white man who's very presence in her life had taught her to look more closely at a man's heart. So what was in her warrior's heart for two women from an enemy tribe? She made her way toward James's lodge. Once again she stopped to watch. The old woman tended the livestock while the pregnant one worked diligently at a pair of large moccasins...for her warrior no doubt! New Moon pushed down the despair that threatened to engulf her as she pressed her fingertips to her stomach to quiet the ever increasing tightening there. When she first dreamed of the one she was to walk the path with, she worried she would not find love in the union. She thought she would never find love again. Then her eyes met his and her heart raced and her limbs quaked. At the time she told herself it was nothing more than the need in her body, but she knew it was more. Memories sprang in her mind of the day of the ball-play. The deep scrapes on his arms still bled as he marched onto the playing field and she knew he accepted the testing by the Old Beloved Man of their village with the same show of strength as the other warriors. She watched as he fought in the Little War. Dancing Cloud had been right. He impressed her. His strength and his cunning thrilled her. It did not really surprise her when he agreed to take her on the warpath. It did, however, when he reached for her as she stumbled and then carried her rather than take her back to the village. He rubbed her ankle and dressed it with cool cloths with such gentleness that his touch felt more like a caress. And then, only hours later, she saw him kill a man.

She recognized in his eyes and in his body the power and pride of a warrior. In his soul she saw tenderness and strength of character. In his arms she felt the coming together of it all -- his strength, his tenderness, his need for her and her need for him. No longer did she doubt that he belonged to her or that she belonged to him. She no longer doubted that she could love again. Still, her pride dictated that he must know her as well as she knew him and accept her for what she was. She took a deep, steadying breath as she looked at the pregnant squaw. Surely it was not possible her warrior had joined himself with a squaw whose people believed it necessary to flatten the heads of their children.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN James emerged from the cold river. Water flew in all directions as he slung his arms and then squeezed as much water as he could from his hair. He was chilled to the bone and his belly hurt, but at last the purification was completed. The other warriors were as anxious as he to pull on their meager clothing. Each would hurry to his lodge to sit before a warm fire and tell his family all about the great adventure. But not him, he was off to see Dancing Cloud and to get some answers. The presence of Akachee and Gentle Rain in Dancing Cloud's village could only mean some disaster had befallen their people. He assumed they went to the trading post and learned from George he was here. But how did they get here? Two women from an enemy tribe would not be allowed to simply stroll into Cherokee territory, much less into the village. James stopped outside Dancing Cloud's lodge and called out for permission to enter. The answering permission was quick in coming and James stepped inside. At the far end of the lodge, a young officer quickly stood to attention, executed a perfect right pivot and had his hand raised halfway to a perfectly correct salute when his brain absorbed what his eyes were telling him. Standing large and imposing before him was Colonel Fitz-Gerald, as he had never seen him before. James did not stop but came directly to the small circle and sat down to recline against a cane backrest. He pulled one knee up and shifted his large frame to the most comfortable position before looking up at the distraught young man. With a wide grin, James snapped a quick salute and said, "At ease, Beauregard -- Smythe isn't it?"

"Uh...Yes, sir. Lieutenant Smythe, sir." The young man joined the others on the hard-packed floor. Beauregard nervously wiped the beading moisture from his upper lip and remembered the last time he run into Colonel Fitz-Gerald. He underestimated the colonel at their last meeting, his being dressed in lace and ruffles...that is until he'd felt the tip of Colonel Fitz-Gerald's rapier pressing against the quickening pulse of his neck. His life had hung by a thread for the longest few seconds he had ever experienced. He could have lived or died, all on the whim of a fop who turned out to be the King's most celebrated agent. The colonel made a laughing stock of him that day and then let him walk away uninjured while his own disguise remained uncompromised. Beauregard shuddered now, remembering how angry the King had been; but the colonel took care of that too. No doubt the teasing grin on his commanding officer's face meant he also remembered their last encounter. If Beauregard had seen the man as he saw him now, he'd never have attempted to draw the object of his lavish attention away from him. How was he to know the impeccably dressed dandy with the uncommonly pretty courtesan hanging on his arm was actually one of the King's own engaged in the monarch's business? The three men sat in silence while Dancing Cloud's wife served the newcomer. James's arrival during a meal required he honor his friend by accepting his hospitality which, of course, James was more than grateful for after three days of fasting and purging. As James ate, Dancing Cloud watched Beauregard Smythe with open interest. Once the remainder of the meal was cleared and the pipe passed around the small circle, Dancing Cloud addressed James, "This white man arrived two days after the war party departed. He tells us you are his chief. He knows your warrior name, the name the Great White Father called you in my presence. So I believed him." Dancing Cloud turned back to James and said as an after thought, "He brought your women with him." Dancing Cloud drew deeply from the pipe and blew the smoke in three short puffs toward the ceiling before handing it to James. "I thank you, Lieutenant," James said as he passed the pipe to Smythe. He waited patiently for the lieutenant to draw the three ceremonial puffs. "Why are you here, Lieutenant?" he asked, all trace of easy humor now gone from his face. Smythe nervously cleared his throat as he shifted his gaze to the chief.

"I am warning you, Lieutenant, do not test my patience. Anything you have to say to me can be said in the chief's hearing. The only thing that kept you and my women alive long enough to see my return was Cloud's knowledge of my nickname. I am of a mind to scalp you myself." The lieutenant quickly passed the pipe. "The Prime Minister has not received a dispatch from you in some time. My orders were to find you and relay to you his concern. He wants a full report." James leaned forward and slapped him on the shoulder, "And so you did, and so he shall. Now relax, Beauregard. Or is it Beau? You are among friends." James leaned against the backrest, but one look into his eyes belied his easy manner. "Tell me why you risked the lives of two women to bring them into this camp." "I was at the trading post, looking for you when they arrived," Smythe began. "They believe that Gentle Rain's husband was killed by the French. The chief's son, Gentle Rain's brother, killed the Frenchman that Gentle Rain feels is responsible for her husband's death. Unfortunately he also died due to the wounds he obtained in the battle." James's easy posture did not change during the lieutenant's speech, nor did the deadly glint in his eyes. "This does not explain why you brought them here, Lieutenant." The lieutenant took a deep breath and glanced at the chief who appeared to be extremely interested in everything he said. "I knew you spent some time with the Choctaw in an effort to create an alliance with that tribe. The fact the two women were looking for you indicated to me that there had been an alliance made, of sorts. Gentle Rain said some pretty strange things, Colonel," Smythe was obviously warming to the subject. "She said you are her husband's brother and she had to find you, and then stay with you until her son is born. Then she must present the child to her father before she can return home. "It sounded, Colonel, like she would not be allowed to return to her own people if she gives birth to a girl. If this happens, if she has a girl, I mean. Is she going to be bound to you in some way? Will this not create some ...well ...difficulties with your mission?" Smythe could not resist letting his gaze slide to Colonel Fitz-Gerald's eyes. James read with ease that Smythe was less concerned about the mission than pleased at the thought that the Colonel might be finding himself in a tight spot. James had spent a considerable amount of time going over Smythe's record after their last encounter. Smythe is a good man, James conceded to himself, just a little too much puppy still in him. A while longer out here away from the parlors and gaming tables of London and he would someday make a decent soldier.

James grinned, "You are right to a point, Lieutenant. If her first child is a girl she will not be allowed to return to her people. She will remain with me until she gives birth to a boy. Then she will take her child, or children, whichever the case may be, and return to her village in honor. Her people would accept my son as her husband's son. He would be raised as the grandson of the Great Red Shoes." Shock was evident on the lieutenant's face, "You mean to tell me, if this child is a girl you will be expected to produce a son with her and just simply send him off to be raised by some warring red chief to kill and someday die like an Indian?" "What is the matter, Lieutenant? Are your Christian morals all in an uproar?" James leaned forward. "Tell me, Beau, have you never read Deuteronomy Chapter twenty five, verse five and six?" James's tone was pleasant enough, but it left no doubt that he intended to make no more explanation. James watched the shifting play of confusion and doubt on the young man's face. He was sure the lieutenant would be fumbling through his Bible at the first opportunity. "You will learn many of the Indian customs you think of as uncivilized are surprisingly similar to the stories in that little black book you carry around in your saddle bag. They, however, may not be the stories your dear, sweet grandmother used to tell you while she bounced you on her knee." James relaxed against the cane backrest. "My mission requires I be fully accepted by these people. This means I must accept them and their ways." A grin spread across his face and this time it reached his eyes. "Trust me, Lieutenant. I know what I'm doing." "Of course, Sir," Smythe replied. He was sure the Colonel was laughing at him ...again. James grew noticeably impatient as he rubbed his open palm back and forth across the top of his bent knee. "Lieutenant, about Prime Minister Pitt. You will have a dispatch prepared for you by mid-day tomorrow. I will expect to hear back from you before the first snow falls. The weak link in our line of communication must be found and eliminated before then. I trust you will be more diligent than my last contact." James rose easily to his feet and respectfully bid his leave from Chief Dancing Cloud. He moved to the doorway. Turning abruptly, his eyes bore into the lieutenant's, "Find it, and take care of it, Lieutenant, or I will ...my way." Lieutenant Smythe had a disturbing mental picture of Colonel Fitz-Gerald covered in war paint and blood, whooping like an Indian at the top of his lungs. Realizing he'd lost his voice he nodded curtly.

Once outside James drew in a deep breath of clean air. God! How he loved it here! He took off in an easy trot toward the far end of the village. He must find out what was happening within the camp of Red Shoes. If his dispatches have been intercepted it would not be difficult to trace them back to him. As James came around the sharp bend leading to his lodges, he stopped short. The place absolutely gleamed as the bright rays of mid -- morning sun reflected from their white -- washed surface. Akachee stepped from the doorway and looked up to see him striding toward her. Unable to wait, she ran the best her aging legs could carry her to his outstretched arms. James wrapped his arms around Akachee's ample girth and raised her easily from the ground and, oblivious to her squeaks and squawks, he twirled her around and around. Gentle Rain dashed from the lodge, expecting to see the old woman being beaten by an angry Cherokee, to see James setting her gently to her feet and laughing joyfully at her attempts to hold her balance. New Moon stood motionless in a nearby corn field and watched. She saw James gently support the aging woman he called mother, and she saw the warm glow that shone in Gentle Rain's eyes as she watched the same scene. New Moon squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to control the emotion that threatened to engulf her. The huge doe eyes that called out to her warrior were not the eyes of the white woman in her vision, New Moon reminded herself. Yet as she had been able to read the great love her warrior would have for the white woman, so could she also see he cared deeply for this girl that bloomed too early into womanhood. And though he did not love this flat head the way he would someday love the white woman, she knew he was bound by a warm affection and by the child growing inside her. Tears flowed unchecked down New Moon's tawny cheeks. Unable to stand it another moment, she turned and fled. James entered his lodge and looked around, a smile of pure pleasure on his face. "Akachee, Gentle Rain, you have done so much." Gentle Rain blushed timidly as she peeked up at James through lowered lashes. "I have prepared food. I expected you sooner, but I have kept it warm for you." James lowered himself to sit cross-legged on a buffalo hide and waited for her to serve him. His hunger had been satisfied at the Chief's lodge, but he did not have the heart to disappoint Gentle Rain. After eating, he set about the unpleasant task of questioning the women about their presence in Dancing Cloud's village.

"Akachee, please come and sit beside me," he called out. "Gentle Rain, you too, come here," he patted the skin. "I want to know what happened to my brother, Gentle Rain," he coaxed. "Please tell me." His heart gave a lurch as he spied a silent tear escape from beneath her lowered lashes. With a ragged sigh she began, "Your brother offered a bride price. My father was very pleased and accepted the price." "Were you not pleased to be joined to Soaring Eagle?" James asked gently. Gentle Rain shrugged, "I was pleased. My husband was a mighty warrior." She sniffed loudly and rubbed her wrist under her nose, the action bringing home to James just how young she truly was. "Your brother drank much of the French man's fire water. He became sick with it," she said softly. Her voice broke as she added, "It made him...do things." James gritted his teeth as his fingers dug into his knees, "Go on." Gentle Rain glanced up. Her gaze went no further up than the tensed, bulging muscles of his chest and she quickly lowered her eyes again, "One day when he was very sick with need for the fire water he left our village with many skins with which to trade to the French. When he did not return my father sent out a search." Her voice cracked as a shudder ran through her body and she wrapped her arms about herself. "I can remember the day the warriors brought back my husband. His spirit was leaving him." Her silent sobs rocked her body as James pulled her tightly against his side. He waited, unsure what he should do to ease her pain. Finally she took a shuddering breath and continued from her new position within his arms. "My husband was a mighty warrior and a good husband. He knew the Great One was calling his spirit. He did not want to leave me alone." Gentle Rain's hand raised slowly toward her hair, "As I held him in my arms he spoke the soft words to me. When he breathed his last I looked into his eyes as I caught his breath into my own lungs." Her hand moved from her hair to her extended belly. "I wanted his strength to go to his son." She pushed away then and looked up at James. "His last words were, 'Go to my blood-brother.'" She reached a trembling finger toward his face and wiped away a tear. James pulled her head back to his chest. "After that a French man came to our village. He wanted to trade firewater to our warriors for skins. He also wanted my father to give me to him.

He thought that because I no longer had a husband my father would agree. But my father would not let him take me. The Frenchman grabbed my arm. He was going to take me without my father's permission. My brother fought for me and for the blood cry. He killed the French man, but he died too." Gentle Rain gritted her teeth. "My father will avenge his blood, and the blood of my husband, on all French men." The moments that followed were heavy with silence until finally she spoke again, "No warrior in my village will take me because my husband's son has not been born. I must wear my hair down and mourn until the time is up." James's heart ached for the girl whose entry into womanhood had been so harsh, but then the Indian woman's life had always been so. "Why not stay with your father until the child is born? It may very well be a son and your mourning time would be over. Coming to me was very dangerous and may not have been necessary." She stole a shy glance at James and lowered her eyes again, "My father has left our village to meet with the other chiefs to discuss the Frenchman at Fort Thomble. My father was afraid for me, so he took me to the trading post to wait for your return. He said you would protect me, like you did before. He said you would raise up a son for your brother." Suddenly the large doe eyes rose to meet his fully and he could see the fear and pain they held. He knew he could not send her back to her village in shame. When he became blood brother with Soaring Eagle he became, to all intended purposes, a tribal kinsman and therefore honor-bound to uphold their customs. "You will stay with me, Gentle Rain." With a roguish grin that had been the downfall of many a damsel, he slipped into his native brogue as he continued, speaking barely above a whisper. "If tha wee one ye carry be a sweet lass, my little darlin', then together we shall make a fine laddie who will grow up to be a mighty warrior like his father and his grandfather." Gentle Rain did not understand the strange words, but there was no mistaking the tenderness in his voice or the promise in his eyes. As the fear and uncertainty she shouldered for so long lifted from her, she crumpled forward and wailed her relief with great catching sobs. "Now, now, Mon petite," he cooed in the French tongue she understood. Reaching forward he pulled her into the safety of his strong arms and gently rocked her. As he wiped away her tears with one callused thumb, he sang softly to her. Strange how the mind works at a time like this, he mused as the lyrics of an Old Irish lullaby came easily to his lips. How melancholy one could become with memories of home and days of childhood long past. He tucked her head beneath his chin. If it was destined for his son to grow to manhood without ever knowing his father and naught of his father's homeland, then he wanted him to grow up with

the memories of the same sweet melodies he had heard as a boy. The same ones he would sing to him if he were there to watch him grow. The baby kicked so hard James felt it under his arm. He smiled and laid his hand on her rounded belly, "Lad or Lassie we may not know, darlin', but 'tis a strong little bairn to be sure." Gentle Rain smiled and nuzzled her head beneath his chin as he leaned against the cane backrest. Soon his eyelids closed and he drifted into a troubled sleep, Gentle Rain still cradled in his arms.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN James gave himself to his dreams. As he floated lightly above the earth he let his eyes casually scan the changing scenery below. The search became frantic, yet he did not know for what he searched. His feet planted themselves firmly on the red bank of a wide, crooked river. Across the river, on the far bank, he saw a panther emerge gracefully from the foliage. James knew he was looking at his own totem. The cat's blue eyes met his and they became one soul. As the panther looked back over his own shoulder James saw through the eyes of his totem. He saw himself walking in a garden. At his side was the King of England. It was a scene from the past and James felt again the excitement of the upcoming adventure and the equally strong anxiety at facing the unknown. The scene shifted and swirled with shades of red which drew together into drops that fell slowly downward to splash heavily into a puddle of blood that grew between two pairs of feet. James's heart was heavy in his chest and his spirit wept as he longed to see the face of his Choctaw blood brother. The panther raised his head and roared his anger at all of life's injustices. Again the vision shifted. When it cleared he saw New Moon, as she was when he first saw her. The way he would always see her, her chin high, and her eyes flashing with defiance. He held out his arms to her and suddenly she was there. Her body pressed fully against his own. He pulled her even tighter within his embrace, and the fear of losing her as well became so intense that the pain threatened to burst his being into a thousand lonely pieces. She looked up into his eyes and he saw joy and contentment and shining forth of such love that he was staggered by its intensity. "We are going to have a child, Red Panther," she whispered. "It grows within me now." "Yes," he answered and was awakened by his own voice. The black eyes that looked up from their sewing were not New Moon's but those of Gentle Rain. James smiled. What was happening was not Gentle Rain's fault any more than it was his own. They were caught in a web of tradition that he dare not break. Yet he believed, for the first time, that his dream had been a vision of what was and what was to come.

He no longer believed New Moon to be barren. He no longer believed his life had to fit neatly into a well thought out plan, like one of his missions. If he had learned anything during his stay with the natives it was that one must take his dreams seriously. The love he felt for New Moon, and the love she would some day feel for him would bare fruit, but first he had an obligation to his blood brother. That evening, during the naming ceremony, the holy man confirmed James's dream by giving him the warrior name, Gi-gu-ge-c Tiv-da-tsi, Red Panther. As the celebration for naming new warriors continued late into the night, James took the opportunity to present Gentle Rain with the foot of a deer. She in turn gave him a cake of bread. This being done in the sight of witnesses was all that was needed to proclaim their short time marriage. James was relived to see New Moon leave the celebration early. He did not want her to witness his claim to Gentle Rain. As he watched the celebration taking place around him and fought the urge to go to New Moon, to take her in his arms and tell her that he loved her. He wanted to tell her that his life would not be complete without her. But this was his wedding night. It would show great dishonor to Gentle Rain if he were to go in search of another. Gentle Rain caught his eye as she left the celebration to quietly return to their lodge. It would be expected of James to wait a short time and then he should slip away as well. James rose easily to his feet. He would go to water first. *** New Moon made her way through the village and to the stream that ran behind Red Panther's lodge. She would much prefer to leave the village and go to visit her private place, but leaving the village at night was forbidden. As she walked she thought about Gentle Rain. She was young, hardly old enough to be having the child that she carried. From what New Moon had learned of the girl and by the way she helped the old woman, New Moon knew her to have a good heart. She grudgingly admitted to herself that she liked the young woman. The fact that she had not seen Gentle in her vision caused New Moon much worry. Could it be that Gentle Rain would not be an obstacle to her joining with James because she would die in childbirth? New Moon shuddered. She would offer up a prayer for Gentle Rain and chant for her safety. New Moon would not be second wife, but neither could she wish death to one so young and innocent.

Stepping around the tall cane, New Moon breathed deeply and let her eyes take in the serenity of the stream, the moon light reflected on its still surface. She walked to the edge of the water and called out in her spirit to her warrior. A twig snapped and a smile played about the corners of her mouth as her heart soared. Her warrior had followed her! He would take her into his arms and explain what was happening. She turned. The change on her face was subtle as the smile became a teasing challenge and her hand went to rest on the hilt of the knife she always wore at her side. So ...the handsome French man had followed her once again to the stream. Lieutenant Smythe moved closer while he held his hands open and away from his sides. "I'm not here to hurt you, Princess," he spoke in English. New Moon answered with contempt. "You do not belong here, French man." Lieutenant Smythe raised his hands up before him. "Whoa! Wait a minute, Princess. I'm not French. I'm English. In fact, I'm a friend of Red Panther's." He saw she considered his words and stepped closer. "I have spoken to your brother," he continued. "I leave early in the morning. I would like to spend the evening with you." "You have your dispatch and have received your orders, Lieutenant. You had best get some sleep and be gone at first light." The lieutenant spun around at the cold tone in Colonel Fitz-Gerald's voice. "Yes, sir!" he answered stiffly. Taking a last glance over his shoulder he winked meaningfully at New Moon and then, without looking at the colonel, he sauntered past. "He treats you with much respect," New Moon observed. James grinned, "Just barely. If I've learned anything about the lieutenant it is that he too often acts before he thinks. It's a wonder he has survived as long as he has on the frontier." James moved closer and New Moon watched his advance with a quickening pulse. He stopped just inches from her and the scent that was so uniquely his sent her heart to flight. The heat of his body reached out to caress her chilled flesh, and she breathed deeply as her eyes traveled up to look into his face. It seemed only natural when he reached out and placed his hands on her hips and pulled her against him. A soft moan escaped from between her lips as she gave herself to his embrace. She slowly ran the palm of her hand upward over his strong arms. Then, with a shaking finger, she traced the

long scratch marks across his chest, which he had rubbed with the stain. The marks would now remain forever on his chest. Her eyes rose again to his and he saw understanding in their depths. He lowered his lips to hers, and this time she offered no resistance, but melted tightly against him as she wrapped her arms about his neck. This was what she had been waiting all her life for. His arms enveloped her and his body fit to hers as if they had never been just one or the other, but had always been inseparable. With great effort James set New Moon from him and turned his back to her. If he continued to hold her, to feel her, he would not be able to speak the words that had to be said. New Moon looked at the stiffness of his spine, the width of his shoulder. As he pulled away from her it felt as if he pulled her heart from her chest. She reminded herself that her dreams had never lied to her. He was still her warrior, but it was not yet time for their paths to meet. She placed a small hand on his back, "Tell me about Gentle Rain." There was a catch in her voice. "Is she your wife?" James turned and she could see the uncertainty in his eyes. He gathered her into his arms and buried his face in her hair as he held her close. "She will be my short time wife." He felt her stiffen and he held her tighter. He would make her understand. New Moon was as much a part of him as the marks she had placed on his chest. Holding her tightly with his left arm he brought his right up to show her his wrist. His voice was pleading as he explained, "Gentle Rain's husband was my blood-brother." It was not necessary for him to continue. She knew the rest. "I will not dishonor my brother," James said softly. New Moon nodded her head in understanding. He would not be the warrior she loved if he could do dishonor to the brother whose family was now his own, but still her pride stood between them and she pushed from his embrace. With tears in her eyes she said, "I will not share you with another woman. When this short time marriage is over, and if the spirits still agree, you may come to me." With this she turned and walked back toward the village. James watched as she moved away. No words of love had been spoken, only a promise to let him come to her. After a few moments he left the serenity of the pond to go in search of the shaman. ***

James stepped through the doorway of his lodge. The hour was late. He had spent a long time with the holy man learning of chants and spells that would bind New Moon to him. In the time he had been with the Indians he had learned not to take their magic lightly, for he had seen its power for himself. He would use this power now to hold the woman he loved. James looked toward the far end of his lodge and saw that Akachee and Gentle Rain were cuddled beneath the furs of their sleeping platforms. James moved quietly to his own bed. He removed the cloth from about his waist and tossed it to the ground before sliding naked beneath his furs. Floating between the fuzzy realm of sleep and wakefulness the soft sounds of muffled sobs reached his ears, and he knew that it was Gentle Rain. *** James's eyes flew open to the feel of a nudge in his back. He was not alone beneath his furs. There was another nudge to his back. He smiled as Gentle Rain's small hand twitched against his stomach. She was nuzzled quite comfortably against him, her arm over his side with her extended belly firmly pressed against his back. James could tell by Gentle Rain's even breathing that the motion of her baby had not disturbed her sleep, and he wondered at a woman's ability to sleep through such activity taking place in her own body. Her hand twitched again and he covered it with his own. Between the twitching and the thumping he doubted he would fall asleep again. The lodge was quiet in the still darkness of pre-dawn. It would not be long before Gentle Rain would wake and begin again a day filled with toil. If she had been born to his world she would not be rising at dawn to work till sundown to provide comfort for him. Instead, as a wife to one of his brothers, she would be petted and pampered. She would be allowed to sleep as long or as often as her growing body demonstrated a need for it. With a widening grin he rolled to his back to place one arm under his head and with the other hand drew her smaller one up to his chest and pressed it over his heart. Nor would she have slipped into his bed and be snuggled so comfortably beneath his covers with no more than an unborn child between them. He had settled it within his heart. He would comfort her and he would make the remainder of her pregnancy as easy as he could. The little minx had wiggled her way beneath his skin. He had been surprised to admit to himself that he found joy in all she said and did. He almost wished it were more than the love a brother felt for a sister, and it might have been, had not New Moon so completely stolen his heart. For that he had no regrets.

Silently he prayed that the unborn child would be a boy. Yet if the child should be a girl, he would fulfill his obligation to Screaming Eagle. New Moon would understand; it was a custom of her people as well.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN Akachee shook James awake. Gentle Rain was no longer in his bed or even in the lodge. James pushed himself up, "Where is Gentle Rain?" "She's 'tending to her duties," Akachee answered crossly, but she was secretly pleased at his show of concern. She approved of Gentle Rain and every day she offered up many prayers that the child she carried would be a girl. Akachee could feel the age in her bones. She needed grand children to keep her young, to crawl up into her lap and beg to be told stories. "You have lain under your furs too long. You have missed the sunrise." she continued in the same irritable tone. "You must eat and then you must go do something." James chuckled, "And what would you have me do, Mother?" he answered as he threw back his bed furs and rose to his feet. "I do not know. I do not care," she answered hastily and hurried from the lodge. James retrieved his loincloth from where he'd tossed it the night before and tied it in place. Next to his backrest he found a bowl of wild oats cooked in milk and sweetened with berries and wild honey. He ate quickly and left the lodge. He did indeed have something to do. With mounting excitement and expectation, James hurried to New Moon's lodge only to discover that she was not there. He quickly made his way to her secret place, to also find no sign of her there. Uneasiness unfurled like a great snake in the pit of his stomach as he hurried back to the village. As James reached the village gate he bellowed out his request to enter. He did not wait for the reply. Dashing along the narrow gateway he crossed the village and headed toward Dancing Cloud's lodge. James found Dancing Cloud sitting before his lodge intently working a large piece of flint with an antler tool. He noticed the sly glance from beneath lowered lashes as he stepped forward. "Dancing Cloud, do you know where I might find New Moon?" Dancing Cloud shrugged unconcerned, "She will return soon. Sit with me awhile." James hunkered down beside his friend, "Do you know where she is?" he asked again, this time not bothering to cover his uneasiness.

Dancing Cloud struck badly and a large piece of flint flew off to strike James across the knee. Both ignored the small drop of blood that rose immediately to the surface of his skin. The chief looked at the ruined piece and grunted his impatience as he tossed it over his shoulder. "How would I know where she is?" Dancing Cloud shrugged, then he busied himself looking through his pile of flint for another piece that would suit his purpose. A tiny muscle worked in James's jaw as he watched. "What is it you're not telling me?" Dancing Cloud refused to look up. "You must wait here until she returns," he finally offered. James watched the solemn expression he was learning to read. Then, suddenly, he knew as if the words had been screamed into his ears. He jumped to his feet, "Who has taken her? I will not allow this to happen! She is mine." James beat a fist to his chest to emphasize the statement. Dancing Cloud looked up at Red Panther; none of the pleasure he felt showed on his face; he silently congratulated himself on his meddling. He was very good at it. Red Panther would learn to trust his heart and take more quickly what he wanted. "You cannot follow. Her suitor came to me and asked permission to take her for a trial." "What!" James could not believe what he was hearing. "You gave permission for another warrior to take her! I can not believe this!" James ran long fingers through his hair and paced back and forth before Dancing Cloud, who had located the perfect piece of flint and calmly resumed his napping. "I did not give permission," the chief corrected. "A chief leads his people, he does not give permission. He asked me to explain our custom. Because he is your friend and I believe his heart is good, I told him what he wanted to know." James stopped dead in his tracks, "You mean to tell me that Smythe did this? He was given a mission to complete." James took several deep breaths. "The young fool will face a court martial for this," his voice barely above a whisper. His attention turned back to Dancing Cloud. "When did they leave? I'm going after them." Dancing Cloud calmly swung his head from side to side. "No? You are telling me no? You would not tell that young fool not to take what belongs to another, but you will tell me not to go after them!" "I do not tell you what you must do, only what you should do. Your young warrior followed what his heart told him. This you should do as well. But I must caution you. You are angry, it is hard to hear what your heart is saying when you are so filled with anger." "Hell, yes, I'm angry!" James choked.

Dancing Cloud was becoming angry himself at James's rudeness to stand while he, the chief, sat. His new warrior was acting very much like a child, and others were beginning to notice. Dancing Cloud stood and placed a hand on James's shoulder, "You are a brave and wise man. I know you will want to sit and talk with your chief, to learn all you can about the customs of your new family that has welcomed you so warmly into their village." Dancing Cloud then shoved downward on Red Panther's shoulder, quite effectively pushing him to the ground. James recognized the gentle speech that the Cherokee used with all children. His friend had quite effectively called him a child! Cloud had intended to shame James for his behavior. It had not worked, but James wisely lowered his head in submission. "You are concerned about your mission?" Dancing Cloud asked as he joined James on the ground. "Of course," James answered a bit more restraint in his voice. "A soldier must place his mission above all else. To run away for any reason, and especially for a personal one is treasonous. It could even be thought of as cowardice." Dancing Cloud seemed to consider what James told him. "What is this word, cowardice?" James breathed a sigh of relief. Dancing Cloud would understand his anger after he explained. "It means afraid, to run in fear of the enemy. Surly one of your warriors would never turn from a battle because of fear." Dancing Cloud grunted and then was silent for a long moment before he spoke. "It is no shame for a warrior to turn from a battle if it is in his heart to do so. A warrior must learn to listen to his heart, and to his dreams. Young Smythe, do you think he could have known he would be accused of this word, cowardice?" "Of course he would know, what I don't understand is why he'd risk his career on such a stupid..." Dancing Cloud raised a hand to silence Red Panther, "Tell me about your mission. What is its purpose." James took a deep breath as he willed his mind and body to relax. Without a doubt he had lost another argument with Cloud. He knew it the minute he heard the word dream. "My mission here is to open and maintain effective communications between the nations of the Cherokee and the English." "Why?" "Why!"

"What is the purpose of our communications?" James mentally counted to ten. "The purpose of our communication is to keep peace between our two nations. To prevent needless death and pain through understanding on both sides." "I see," Dancing Cloud smiled widely, "The health and happiness of both our nations is the purpose of your mission. It is the same with every Cherokee warrior. The health and happiness of our women and our children are all that we live for." James watched Dancing Cloud closely. Never before had he been at a loss for words, but what the Chief said about a warrior living only for his people was true. Unlike the civilized nations that conscripted their sons into their armies to fight their wars for protection of their privileged classes, an Indian warrior died protecting his family and his people. He gave his life out of love. All Indians were the same in this. It all was so simple when you looked at life that way. James knew he would never be able to explain the interdisciplinary society he was bound by oath to serve. He did not believe he even wanted to try. "I see nothing that goes against that purpose in what he young warrior did," Dancing Cloud continued. "He was very brave to follow his heart and go against the white man's custom. He was very careful to do this according to our custom. You have done the same. If New Moon does not accept him, he will bring her back. Then you may kidnap her if you like," he looked hard at James, "But she will marry who she chooses. Her heart is her own. "You must shed this cloak of anger from your heart, my friend," Dancing Cloud said as he rose to his feet. "Only then will you be able to hear what your heart is telling you." Dancing Cloud walked away before Red Panther could respond. James stood and kicked the dirt in his frustration. Damn Smythe! Damnation to a mission that required him to follow the way of the Indian! James massaged the back of his neck with strong fingers. He had never been a man to lie to himself. It had not been dictated to him to embrace the Indian way of life any more that it had been forced on him to become a blood brother or to fall in love with New Moon. He had made his own choices fit snugly inside the framework of the mission. So why did he feel so out of control? James stood still and looked about him with a strange sense of detachment. Everyone in the village went about his business, the women were weaving their baskets or shaping clay pots, others scraping hides or chasing after children.

The men with their long scalp locks and tattooed bodies that struck such fear in the hearts of the colonies gathered in little circles before this lodge or that. Some were playing and gently teasing the children, some knapping flint, some just smoking and talking quietly. The sounds of the village faded into a quiet hum as he thought about his destiny unfolding around him and all he could do was wait ...wait for the birth of a child who held the power to effect the outcome of his life. At that moment James saw the village's old Beloved Woman, lead by Akachee, hurrying in the direction of his lodge. His feelings of displacement fled as the sweet face of Gentle Rain racked with pain loomed before his mind's eye. He shook himself and tore off in a dead run. Soon he had passed the women who called out frantically for him to stop. Dancing Cloud stepped from his lodge, Thomas close on his heels. The shrill screeching of the women shattered the tranquillity of the village. Half the warriors were running after Red Panther who was about to break one of their most sacred taboos, while the other half made quick bets on his likelihood of succeeding. The children were whooping and jumping around like water frogs while the camp dogs ran in all directions barking and chasing anyone that caught their attention. For the most part the villagers were having a wonderful time. Thomas laughed joyfully and Cloud turned his attention to him. "I see why Spotted Dove is so pleased by your return. You are truly a man with a happy heart." "That I am, Chief, that I am, 'specially right now. Ever notice how proud that newest member of your tribe is? Ever seen him struttin' like a game rooster? Well, he's 'bout to run head long into a bevy of ol' biddies." Thomas screwed up his face in excitement like a young one about to receive a gift. "I can hardly wait." Cloud smiled in spite of himself. "I see Deer is catching up with him. Do you still think Red Panther will be able to reach the birthing lodge?" "You can bet on it, Chief." James heard Gentle Rain's wail of pain and pushed his legs harder, stretching the distance between him and the warriors. A warrior darted into the path but James roughly shouldered him out of the way. Silent Deer stumbled over the sprawled body and was slammed into by Gray Fox, who was close on his heels, they both went down. Before Deer could push himself up, he felt a brisk crack to his skull by the cane carried by the old Beloved Woman. She had no time to wait for him to move out of her way and so trod over him like he was so much dirt beneath her feet.

James dashed through the doorway and paused to let his eyes adjust to the dim interior before stumbling to the cane platform where Gentle Rain strained and withered in her agony. "Gentle Rain, my little darlin'. It's goin' ta be just fine. You'll see," he cooed gently and took one small hand into his two larger ones. "I'll take good care of ya, and the wee one too. You have not a tin' ta worry about." Gentle Rain looked into his face and he was shocked to see the fear reflected in her eyes. Hastily she withdrew her hand and shied away from him. "Red Panther!" James turned to see Akachee standing in the doorway with a large wooden spoon in her raised hand, the very one he had carved for her and shown her how to use. She advanced on him rapidly and made use of it in a way he'd never intended. The mighty warrior scrambled on hand and knees toward the door while trying in vain to protect his head from the sudden and vicious attack. Once he had stumbled through the doorway, he was quickly snatched up by one arm and found himself half-dragged, half-carried toward the creek. "You should know that it is bad medicine to see a woman at childbirth," Silent Deer hissed angrily. A loud wail rent the air and James again reacted with fierce struggles which Silent Deer soon put a stop to as he bounced the butt side of his tomahawk off Red Panther's head. James woke to cold water splashing on to his face. He spit and sputtered and then grabbed the shattering pieces of his head. James looked over at Silent Deer who was obviously irritated. "Did you not hear me tell you it is bad medicine to look upon a woman in childbirth." "With my people the medicine man is there to help women give birth. With my people I am also a medicine man." "You are not with your people. You are with mine. It is not necessary for a medicine man to help a woman do what is natural for her. There is no place in it for a man, even a medicine man." Silent Deer turned his head toward James. "You will never be a medicine man with my people. Warriors are not medicine men," he added peevishly. James squinted his eyes and looked hard at Silent Dear who quickly looked the other way. "What happened to you?" James asked as he roughly poked at a rapidly swelling lump on the shaved side of Silent Deer's head. "That woman you call mother!"

James laughed then moaned as the effort sent a new stabbing pain through his skull. "You should not laugh at me!" Silent Deer puffed up even more. "I saw you run from her when she made war on you with that weapon you made for her." James grinned but he knew better than to laugh again. "That was no weapon, Silent Deer. That was a spoon," he said the word in English because he knew no word in the beloved tongue to use. "Her spoon," Dear struggled with the strange sounding word, "is broken. Do not make for her another one." James sat quietly, knowing this was not the time to tease his friend about an old lady's war cry on his head. There would be time enough for that when his wounds healed. "Come," Silent Deer said as he hauled James to his feet. "You must go to the Old Beloved Man. He is in the Asi." James obediently followed Silent Deer. Perhaps it was best to allow Gentle Rain to have her young the way her people have been doing since the beginning of their existence. When the two mighty and battered warriors reached the Asi, Silent Deer turned and left James alone. James stripped himself of his meager clothing and raised the flap of the Asi. "Come in Red Panther," the old Magi ordered. In the hours that followed, James spoke freely to the old man of his love for New Moon and his obligation to Gentle Rain and his blood brother. "No sacrifice is too great for love," the shaman told him. "It is because of this love for the people and for all the brothers and sisters in nature and of the spirits in nature that a warrior becomes great and is a protector. It is the way. It is as it must be for our people to survive." James listened to the tales of the spirits in nature and how the Principal People, by living as brothers to all around them, were protected and nourished by the spirits. By the time it reached James's ears that Gentle Rain was delivered from her labor, he felt more at peace with his life than he had for a very long time. Stepping from the Asi, he dressed hastily and hurried to the Village Square. Standing in the center of the large circle created by the villagers stood the old Beloved Woman. In her arms was a tiny bundle wrapped in soft doe skins, the acceptable wrap for newborn girls. The circle parted as Red Panther walked toward the old Beloved Woman. He looked down at the child in her arms that, for all intent and purposes, was his daughter. The villagers crowded in just as anxious to view the new life as Red Panther.

James unwrapped the child and made a quick examination of her fingers and toes while the warriors cheered and slapped him on the back. Before the old woman knew what he was about, he snatched the infant from her arms and cradled her protectively. A hardy wail was heard above the whoops and cheers and sudden silence settled over the gathering. As the crowd parted, James saw Akachee pushing her way toward him. In her arms was another bundle, this time wrapped in panther hide. James hurriedly handed the tiny infant girl to the old woman and gently accepted the child from Akachee. All was quiet. It was not a good omen for twins to be born, and James knew that where Gentle Rain would have been accepted with one child, she would never be allowed to stay with twins. James took the boy from the hide and raised him high above his head. "A tsu tsa," he called out in way of introducing the small child to the village. Then placing the child in the bend of one strong arm, he took his daughter from the old woman in the other and again addressed the crowd, "A ae vu tsa." Leaving the crowd, the babies still cradled in his strong arms, he made his way back to his lodge. By naming the infants he had accepted the -- for the time being. He knew there would be a meeting. It would be decided that the children and their mother would have to leave the village. But with any luck, he would be able to hold them off until Gentle Rain was better prepared to withstand the journey back to her father's village. James stepped into the lodge and walked over to Gentle Rain where she rested on fresh furs. Her large doe eyes reached his and he saw the fatigue and also fear in them. "The babies are strong and healthy," he said to her. "You must not worry about them; they will be fine. I will not let any harm come to them." Gentle Rain smiled weakly and then let her eyes travel to the faces peeking from their skins. She had faith in Red Panther and in everything he said. If he said she could keep both babies, then she knew it was true. James placed A ge yu tsa in her arms and she smiled at her tiny daughter. He then placed A tsu tsa in her other arm and rubbed a large finger against his soft cheek. They both laughed as the tiny mouth chased after his finger. He adjusted the tiny bundles so each could latch upon a breast. Gentle Rain sighed contentedly and looked up at him. He expected her to question him on how he planned to keep the babies safe. His mind searched frantically for an answer. "Where is Hunting Bow?" she asked.

James was confused. His brows furrowed as he studied her eyes. "What? Hunting Bow?" He was worried about how to protect her and her newborns and she was asking about someone named Hunting Bow? He spun toward the door just as Akachee -- who was stopped in her tracks by the fierce scowl on his face -- entered. "Take care of her, Mother," he said as he angrily strode past.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN An unseasonably warm day cast the village into a lazy carefree lethargy. Occasionally a dog barked or a small child cried for his mother, but for the most part little activity took place. "Damn!" Dancing Cloud looked up from his knapping to see how badly Red Panther chipped his flint this time. The two sat quietly beneath the sprawling limbs of the old oak for most of the day. Dancing Cloud knapped flint into useful arrow and spear points while Panther ruined one piece after the other. "You are ruining all my flint," Dancing Cloud grunted irritably. James tossed down the ruined flint and antler tool. Absentmindedly he raised a hand to caress the sore lump on his head. He didn't understand why Deer thought it necessary to hit him so hard with that tomahawk. Akachee had already battered him sufficiently about the head and shoulders with her blasted spoon. "Beau and New Moon have been gone for two days. I thought you said you told him to bring her back if she wouldn't except him." "Maybe she did except him," Dancing Cloud offered happily. Thomas, who had just walked up, snickered. James snarled as he dusted his hands by slapping them across one another, "I hope for his sake that she didn't." Dancing Cloud cleared his throat and rubbed his nose vigorously as he reached for another piece of flint. "That knife ya lost ta me in wager is a real nice piece, Chief. Would ya like to maybe make another friendly bet?" Cloud's chuckle mingled with Thomas's until they both looked up to see James scowling at them. The chief quickly busied himself flipping through his flint while Thomas helped by picking up one piece after the other, asking if this or that piece would suite his needs.

A cry for entrance soon interrupted the peacefulness of the village. James leapt to his feet and turned toward the gate in time to see Smythe ride through. With him was New Moon, and she seemed quite comfortable -- relaxed against the scoundrel's chest! Her eyes met his and her chin rose slightly. God, how he loved that spark of fire! He saw Smythe's arm wrapped protectively around her waist, and his stomach knotted as his worst fear came to mind. New Moon saw the look of dread in his eyes and her heart soared as her expression softened. Their eyes met again and with them they spoke, without words, to one another of reassurance and understanding. You are home, his heart spoke to her. She caressed his every feature with her gaze. I will never leave you again, she seemed to say with her eyes. A muscle worked in his clenched jaw. I will never let you go, he promised himself as well as her. He was answered by a smile that held promises of its own. This mountain of communication between two like souls remained undetected by all around them, except Dancing Cloud who knew and loved them both. Smythe swung down from his mount and then helped New Moon down. Not until he turned to face the two men that anxiously awaited their return did James finally notice the condition of the Lieutenant. Smythe's right eye was swollen almost shut, the angry black bruise spreading from above his eyebrow to his misshapen cheek. He hugged his ribs as he approached James. New Moon stepped up to Dancing Cloud and said solemnly, "I do not accept this warrior." Then without a backward glance she headed for her own lodge. James reluctantly pulled his gaze from New Moon's swaying hips to Lieutenant Smythe's battered person. Knowing he looked no better, he said with grudging humor, "The natives have been unusually restless of late." Thomas cackled out loud. Dancing Cloud grunted but said nothing. "I assume that you are now ready to resume your duties?" James asked Beau. Smythe looked with surprise at James. He had done no less than desert his post with one of the Colonel's women and expected no less than an immediate execution. No trial, no considering the effect wilderness life can have on a man's reason, or that the Colonel had more women than any man had a right to. Yet it appeared that his superior officer intended to overlook his error in judgment.

"Come with me, Smythe. I have decided to turn your lodge into a clinic of sorts, not that any of the Principal People will allow me to treat them, but I'll see what I can do for you. You'll no longer be needing it." Smythe followed James through the village toward the new established medicine lodge. As they passed James's lodge an infant began to cry and Smythe stopped. "I hear that your child has finally been born," he said with more bitterness than he intended. "Yes. That is Gentle Rain's daughter." James did not miss the fallen expression or the drop of his shoulders. Then another blood curdling scream, worthy of any warrior rose in volume to cover the first. "And that is Gentle Rain's son," James added. Smythe looked at James, "So are you keeping her or are you sending her back to her father?" he asked a bit too hopefully to suite James. "The council agreed that she could stay until she is strong enough to travel back to her own village. Though, I don't see how that should concern you," James answered and pushed Smythe forward. James worked quickly over Smythe's wounds and bound his ribs tightly. During the procedure, Smythe remained silent. He watched the muscle in the jaw of his superior officer work angrily. It was obvious to Smythe, though the colonel let his actions slide, any unofficial disciplinary action he planned was still up in the air. Just as James put the final touches to the rib binding a young boy called for entrance. "Come," James called out. The boy poked his head in and looked around before he anxiously stepped into the lodge. It was plain to see the young boy held the big white man called Red Panther with a great deal of awe. "Red Panther," he panted, "Dancing Cloud asks that you come to him. There is another Red Coat here to see Hunting Bow." James glanced at Smythe and raised a brow, "How many did you tell that ridiculous name to, Lieutenant?" "Dancing Cloud heard you call me Beau, I didn't know of any other way to translate it except as a hunting bow." "Well at least that makes a certain amount of sense."

James tightly capped a jar of foul-smelling ointment and followed the boy from the lodge, Smythe close on his heels. Before they reached the gathering, he said to Beau, "Let's see if we can get through this without you revealing who I am." James stepped up to the council circle and took his place, careful to keep his eyes downcast as he lowered himself to sit in the typical cross-legged position at the council fire. The sergeant, a gruff-looking fellow in his late forties, took note of the big Indian with auburn hair and shuddered slightly. He hated breeds worse than full bloods. He had hoped that once the lieutenant arrived they would be able to conduct this meeting in private. Upon seeing Lieutenant Smythe he raised his hand in a salute. Smythe returned the salute and indicated that the sergeant should sit. "At ease, Sergeant." Smythe sat and reached out his hand to take the dispatch. The startled sergeant quickly handed the pouch over but looked about him at the number of Indian braves that crowed around the small fire. "Sit!" Smythe barked as he flipped open the leather pouch and withdrew the communiqué. He scanned the paper while the sergeant eyed Dancing Cloud as if he were a bug he wished to step on. "Dancing Cloud holds the King's confidence, I assure you, Sergeant," Smythe said and handed the empty pouch back to him. "You may tell the Governor that his communiqué was received and understood. Also report back to the Governor that Col. Fitz-Gerald has been located and all is going well. I hate to send you back so soon, Sergeant, but Governor Glenn will be waiting my reply." The sergeant rose stiffly to his feet and raised a hand in salute, "Understood, sir." Smythe returned the salute without rising. The sergeant jumped as a big Indian whose face looked like he'd stepped into a stone wall stepped up behind him and actually had the audacity to take him by the elbow. Smythe looked up at the startled sergeant, "You are excused, sergeant. Silent Deer will escort you to your horse. I'm sure Dancing Cloud would love to have you stay and visit a while, but like I said, the Governor will be waiting to hear if you found me. By the way, sergeant, personally see to it that the Prime Minister's man receives the word about the col." "Yes, sir." The sergeant pulled his arm free. "I'm on my way, sir." He gave Silent Dear a hard look and walked from the fire.

As soon as the sergeant departed, Smythe handed the paper to James who quickly read the hastily scrawled words and then tossed the paper into the fire. Dancing Cloud watched the papers curl and turn black. "What did the talking leaves say?" he asked. "It's not so much what they say as what they tell me. It seems that the Governor is trying to take a few matters into his own hands." "Lieutenant Smythe, I will leave for Great Telleco first thing in the morning. That means you will be responsible for getting Gentle Rain back to her father, Red Shoes. I want her there as soon as you can get her there. If you find that she or the babes are unwelcome, tell Red Shoes that you will return her and the children to me. Tell him that I fear no bad medicine and will care for her and her children. Then you take them to the trading post and explain the situation to George Hague. She is not to be mistreated. Understood?" "I understand, Colonel." "Then go to her now, but have a care, Lieutenant. If you cause her any grief, I'll follow you to hell." James knew the threat was unnecessary. He felt certain that given the opportunity Beau and Gentle Rain would find happiness together. "I understand, sir," Smythe answered and then left the council fire. James turned to Dancing Cloud, "I will buy a wife. I will pay you four fine mares and a stallion. I will bring them back when I return from Great Telleco." Dancing Cloud appeared to consider the offer. "New Moon is my little sister, but she is also a brave warrior. She has gone to war with me many times. If you buy her she will be watching your back, not mine when we go to war." James grinned knowingly, "When she went to war at my side she was much trouble. I would never let her go to war beside me again. AlSoshe is no longer young. She has been married before to a mighty warrior and bore no children. If you do not sell her to me you may not get another offer." Dancing Cloud sat silently for many long moments. "She is not old. My sister still has many useful years ahead. What if she does not choose you?" "Then you may keep the bride price," James answered magnanimously. "You may ask her."

James knew where to find New Moon and hastened there as soon as he could politely remove himself from the chief's company, who suddenly felt a great need to show James the bow he had just finished and the new leather pouch his wife made for his arrows. James immediately spotted New Moon as he slipped between the boulders that surrounded her beloved refuge. She rose from the buffalo robe she had placed beneath the bent branches of an age-old willow that nestled against the large boulder. As always, she stood proud, her shoulders squared and her dainty chin tilted in a defiant angle that told him life with her would never be boring. Her eyes held his, and sparks arched between them though several feet separated them. "Gentle Rain has had a son. She will be returning to her father without shame." His voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried to her on the gentle breeze. New Moon raised her arms and James closed the distance between them in a few long strides. He pulled her into his arms and held her close as he breathed in the scent of her hair. He pressed his lips to her ear and whispered, "I have offered Dancing Cloud a bride price. Will you accept me, my little wa-sa?" Joy filled New Moon's heart as she answered, "Yes. I will be the wife of Red Panther." His lips found hers in a kiss so achingly tender her heart cried out for more. She wrapped her arms about his neck and leaned into his embrace. Together they lowered to the buffalo robe. James lay back against the trunk of the old willow and pulled her into his arms. He put a hand to the back of her head and pulled her face down to his chest. She nuzzled there beneath his chin, smelling his scent and listening to the strong steady beat of his heart. They nuzzled together beneath the gently swaying branches of the old willow while the spirits looked on with favor. Strong callused hands gently traced her small delicate features and full, pouting lips while he spoke whispered words of love and promise and commitment. Her small hands roamed caressingly over his hard chest and bulging arms while her heart soared. In her soul she accepted that, even though pain always accompanied so great a love, she would not deny the happiness she felt or turn her back on the pain that was sure to follow.

CHAPTER NINETEEN James left Chota at first light. He had not seen New Moon after he left her at her lodge entrance the night before. Now, as he rode toward Great Telleco, he remembered their time

together, the promises they'd shared and the plans they made. He had made love to her only with his words and soft kisses. To do more would have been to go against the spirits of the willow and of Grandfather River. A smile curved his lips as he considered how far he'd come, not just in terms of the distance he'd traveled from his homeland but in the very perception of all around him. His eyes scanned his surroundings as he pushed his horse faster. He would like to smell the air and feel the crisp morning breeze, to take time to hear the spirits of the earth. Not long ago, though he had been drawn in a mighty way to this land, he did not understand the true beauty of it, or the life flowing through it to man. He would have scoffed the same as other white men at the talk of spirits or man's brotherhood with nature. But now he understood. Loving New Moon brought about a heightened awareness for the native people and their culture. Two days after his journey began, the warrior Red Panther called for entrance into the city of Great Telleco. Permission came and he led his horse through the narrow passage. Once inside the village he went directly to the lodge of the old shaman, the dida:hnvwi:sg, and called out, "I am Red Panther." "Enter," said a voice from within.

James stepped through the doorway. "I have come," he said solemnly and noted that Du Prey was sitting beside the old man. Gray Bear chuckled, "Yes, you have. It is good!" The old shaman's face shown with pleasure at a visit from the warrior who had done so well in the ball play. He indicated for James to sit. "I see you now wear the warrior's feathers," he said, a wide grin splitting his weathered face. Clapping his hands loudly he called, "Wife, come serve our new guest." Then to James, "You must tell us the story of how you earned the name Panther. It is a name of great strength and cunning." James nodded in acceptance as Gray Bear's wife lowered to her knees beside him and reached across to set a bowl of roasted deer-meat on the cane mat that lay on the floor between the three men. He looked into her face and was surprised by her youth. She glanced at him and then quickly lowered her lashes. "Do you like her?" Gray Bear asked. "She appears strong and able to bear many sons." The old shaman put a gnarled finger under her chin and tilted her face upward and toward James. "And she is good to look at."

James looked at her again. She was too young to be married to an old man. She was hardly more than a child. "Yes," he answered, a sense of apprehension tingling along his skin. "Good! I give her to you for the night." Gray Bear waved his arm impatiently at the trembling girl, "Go! Prepare yourself and the guest lodge. Our guest is weary." James looked to DuPrey and saw both amusement and challenge in his eyes. He turned back to Gray Bear, "I thank you for your...gift. It is wonderful beyond my ability to express..." he paused. Gray Bear sat straight and proud. He waited to hear much praise on his ownership of such a young and lovely wife, and the greatness of his gift. James felt uncertain how to proceed. He was familiar with the custom of a warrior buying a girl to be his wife. He would turn her over to his older wife to train and then when she was of an age to be truly married the ceremony would be performed. No custom allowed for adultery among the Cherokee. A warrior was proud of his family and would kill another for the virtue of his wife. Only women who were unmarried but had been married before were offered to visitors and only then if they were agreeable. This girl fit into none of these categories.

"Our Emperor does honor you greatly with such a gift," DuPrey interrupted his thoughts. "Little Dove is our Emperor's youngest wife. She was married to him when she was fourteen summers. He has seen to it that his other wives trained her in all things necessary to be a good wife and now, at sixteen summers she knows all that is necessary for a wife to know. Look around you and you will see all the many things she has made for her husband." James looked at the beaded moccasins, the soft leather quiver, woven baskets and painted bowls, even the mat on which their food sat and the back rest against which they leaned. Every item in the lodge showed the careful even hand of its creator. "Can you see why she is his favorite?" James covered the emotion in his eyes as they slid back to DuPrey. The little Frenchman must indeed have a great deal of influence on this tribe of the Ani-Yunwiya. He felt the responsibility of his mission bear heavily down on him. Extracting DuPrey from this camp would not be an easy matter. The governor's foolish attempt to intervene could very well backfire. If he did manage to extract DuPrey, many of the white settlers living on the frontier near Cherokee lands would pay the price with their lives. DuPrey took three puffs from the pipe that now made its way around the little circle and passed it to James.

"Little Dove has just returned from the woman's lodge. It was her first visit there. The Emperor does truly honor you by giving her to you first." James saw the challenge in DuPrey's eyes. Did he hope to introduce this new custom to Chota Town through him? If he accepted the door would be opened to his village. If he refused his influence in this village would be blocked, not to mention whatever danger might be in store for him personally. Nothing in his life had prepared him for these events. His undercover missions had often involved undercover activities of a softer nature. He had particularly enjoyed that aspect of his duty. But never before had a father sent his daughter to him for protection or a husband thrust his wife under his nose. How would he explain this one to New Moon? He made his decision. DuPrey had to be stopped. He could not allow his personal feelings to undermine his influence in this village. His mission was too important to England and too important to the Cherokee as well. James turned to Gray Bear and accepted the gift as graciously as he could. AS he let the beautiful speech roll easily from his tongue he killed DuPrey a hundred times over in his mind for planting this seed of corruption in a tribe of people he had grown to love and respect.

As the evening wore on he listened to DuPrey, who proclaimed the shaman to be Emperor and himself the Imperial Majesty's Principal Secretary of State. "I have taught The People many useful and wonderful things," he announced smugly. "I have shown why a woman ought not to belong to only one man. A Great warrior should mix his blood with that of many women whose ancestors were also great warriors. This is the quickest and surest way to build a might army." The hair on the back of James neck tingled but his expression remained solemn, revealing none of what he felt. He saw Gray Bear dozed. Now was his opportunity to get out of the lodge before he convinced himself to kill DuPrey with his bare hands. "I grow weary, Emperor," he addressed Gray Bear. The Dida:hnvwi:sg nodded sleepily and James rose to his feet. "I will walk with you to your lodge," DuPrey offered and rose as well. Once they were outside and on their way to the rear of the village DuPrey asked, "Why are you here, Red Panther?" "I am going to the trading post. Since I have never been to Great Telleco and it is only a short distance out of my way I decided to come by here first."

"How is it that you are Cherokee and have never been to Great Telleco?" "There are many Cherokee villages. Some of these villages are far from here. I decided to leave my own and travel to Chota town. There is much talk in my village of Chota Town and the Chief, Dancing Cloud. Do not the warriors from your own country sometimes travel far from their own home?" DuPrey's grunt was noncommittal. They walked the rest of the way in silence. As they stepped up to the visitor's lodge a large Indian standing guard at the doorway moved to one side. Around his shoulders lay a heavy buffalo robe, which he held tight against the night, chill. James glanced at his face and thought it was too dark to see clearly the moon reflected in his black eyes. James saw strong emotion flash quickly and then disappear. "We are honored by your visit," DuPrey said at his side. "It will be an even greater honor to our Emperor if you leave your seed behind in his youngest wife." James turned to face DuPrey. "I suppose it could pose a problem when your community children are ready to marry and have their own children. It has never been a custom of our people to mate within the same clan or to share our women. I do not believe they will accept this in Chota Town." DuPrey looked up into the icy blue eyes of this strange breed that stood a least a head taller than himself. "Why were you

going to the trading post, Red Panther?" He asked suspiciously. James smiled and a visible tremor ran through DuPrey's body. "To talk of trade to Hague and Brown. I will trade for horses." "Horses," DuPrey looked genuinely confused. "Yes," James answered. "I will buy a wife. And -- " is voice lowered to a deadly tone, "I will not share her with another warrior." With this James stepped through the doorway of his lodge. There, before him, in the center of his sleeping furs, naked and trembling with her head bowed low, was Little Dove. If not so distracted by the trembling Girl in his bed, James would have been able to concentrate on a feasible story for his guard to let him leave the lodge. He knew he should follow DuPrey. Instead he walked over to Little Dove and pulled a pelt up over her thin shoulders. She looked up at him with frightened eyes and he thought of another young girl with the big frightened eyes of a doe. "Do not fear me, little one. I will not hurt you," he told her in the beloved tongue. Her lower lip quivered and she caught it between her teeth. She pushed the heavy pelt from her shoulders and let it drop. James looked deep into her eyes. She was afraid of him or of what would happen to her if she did not give herself to him. He smiled gently and rearranged the pelt so that it would cover them both. He slid her down beneath the covers and lay down beside her as he pulled her trembling into the warm circle of his arms. She placed a trembling hand to his chest. He felt the heat of her body against his and thought of New Moon. Soon he would be holding her in his arms. He gently stroked Dove's cheek pushing the hair from her face and then pulled her head forward to rest beneath his chin. Taking heart by his gentle touch Dove moved her hand lower along his stomach to the bindings of his waistcloth.

James drew in a quick breath. He wasn't made of wood. His own thoughts of New Moon and the soft feathery touch of Doves fingers brought about an immediate reaction. He hastened to take hold of Doves hand and brought it back to his chest. "I will not mate with you, Dove," he said softly. In the dim light he could see the fear and shame in her eyes. "You are very beautiful. You will bring many happy nights to your warrior, but this is not right. Let me keep you warm while you sleep. In the morning you may tell Gray Bear whatever you like about tonight." Dove scrambled up and backed away. She dropped her head and James could see she swung it from side to side. He pushed himself up to his feet and looked down at her. He wrapped strong fingers around his neck and massaged the tightening muscles there. Dove looked up, tears cascading down her cheeks. "You do not understand. Tomorrow the old woman will examine me to see if you had your pleasure with me. When she learns that you have not, she will tell Gray Bear and he will beat me and shame me before the whole village." A loud gasp erupted from her lips to be followed by heart wrenching sobs. From out of the darkness a body flew at James and knocked him hard to the ground. They rolled among the furs, his attacker trying to kill him, while he tried to figure a way out of this mess without killing his attacker. He finally got an opening and caught him on the chin with a strong uppercut. The warrior's head snapped back and he fell heavily to the furs. Little Dove dashed to the fallen warrior and wailed as if her life were coming to an end. James cringed for only a second before he snatched her up and put a hand roughly over her mouth. "Be Quiet!" he shook her until her struggles stopped. "Be quiet. He's not dead. Who is he?" He carefully moved his hand just far enough away from her mouth to allow her to speak. "He is Blue Feathers," she sniffed as she tried to pull away. "Why did he attack me?" "Because he loves me." James let her go and she dropped down to Blue Feather's side. He looked around until he found a water bladder and emptied it in Feather's face. Spitting and sputtering Blue Feathers jerked awake and jumped to his feet. James slid an arm around Dove and pulled her tightly up against his chest. He pressed a knife against her throat and her struggles ended immediately, as did Feather's advance. "I don't want Dove. I have a woman of my own in Chota. Why have you allowed the Frenchman to do this?"

"If I could have stopped him I would have." Feathers snarled between clinched teeth. "He has too much power in our village." "Maybe we can help each other." James turned Dove loose and put his knife away. Tell me what DuPrey is doing in this village and how it is that Little Dove, who loves you, is married to someone she has not chosen." Blue Feathers shifted his weight upon the floor of the lodge as Dove went shyly to him and settled herself at his side. He motioned for James to sit as well. "The marriage ceremony has not happened. I will discover a way to stop it." Feathers looked down at Dove and smiled. James had no doubt that Feathers would keep his promise to Dove even if it resulted in the loss of his own life. Feathers turned his attention back to James. "This man you call DuPrey has gained much power in our village by providing our warriors with many powerful weapons and a fire-water that causes much pleasure. Like the firewater, this French man is very dangerous. "I followed him one night and saw that he meets with a band of Mohawk. This band has caused the death of many of our people, but I knew I would not be believed. I knew I could not kill him then without being killed myself. So I returned to the village and spoke quietly with others who do not feel good in their heart about the French man." James felt his excitement rising. "How many warriors stand at your side against DuPrey?" "Three." His optimism lowered. "That is not a great number." "But they are great warriors." he answered smugly. "We are chosen by Gray Bear to be personal guard to this French man." James could not hide his grin as he rose to his feet. "Now I know we can help each other. Does it not seen strange to you that Gray Bear, in an effort to protect DuPrey just happen to have chosen the three of you?" Feather's face showed no emotion, but in his eyes James saw understanding. "Give me the robe. I will stand outside. Dove has chosen you. By law you have the right. When it is time for the marriage ceremony you will have the right to step forward as the first. You just be sure you come out well before daybreak. We have much to talk about." *** Early the next morning James and Blue Feathers entered the council house. Blue Feathers directed James to a seat close to the council fire, not far removed from the other guest, Colonel Taylor. James did not look at the colonel directly, but sat stiff and rigid as he listened to the pompous demands sent by the Governor, and quaked at the foolishness.

"I am Colonel Taylor of his Majesty's Royal Service. I have been sent here to apprehend one Christoph Gottlieb DuPrey. The charges are as follows..." After long moments of listening to the list of charges, a particularly high- ranking warrior stood up and addressed the Colonel, using the beloved speech, on behalf of his friend. "The man you intend to enslave is a beloved man of the Principal People. His heart holds no hate and his spirit sings with truth. He is not from your land across the great waters. He does not owe allegiance to your Great Chief from that land. Where he has traveled in your lands he has always traveled in peace. He has made known to the Ani Yunwiya his tender feelings for us. He works hard to preserve our liberties by opening a water communication between here and the place you call New Orleans. "This proves his love of doing good. He will bring teachers to show us how to make the black powder in which to use in the fire sticks he has given to us. We will be better able to defend ourselves against our enemies and to feed out families. "It appears plain to me that the bad heart of the English commissioner toward our friend is because he loves the Cherokee. His only crime is that he loves the Cherokee." The large Indian lowered himself to his seat and Gray Bear rose. "The Cherokee want the same as the English. We want to see peace between our two peoples. But we must respect each other as free men and equals. Do not send more of those bad papers to our country. This man you call DuPrey is our guest and is under our protection. Do not question our wisdom or interfere with our customs." A mumbling grew in intensity until DuPrey rose and held his arms high to silence the crowd. At once all were silent. James sat in awe of the power this man held over the crowd. "You now have leave to depart. I wish you safe journey, Colonel Taylor, and to show you that I hold no hard feelings against you, who are only attempting to carry out the orders of your own chief, I will assign a guard to escort you until you are safely outside of Cherokee territory." He quickly pointed out several able-bodied warriors one of which was Blue Feathers, and instructed them to go with the colonel. As the tribe filed quietly from the council house Colonel Taylor stood proud but silent within a circle of fierce warriors. James let out a relieved breath. DuPrey could just as easily have ordered that the colonel be executed for his part in all of this. He was thankful that DuPrey had the good sense to know that the colonel's death would have launched an immediate retaliation from the English. Apparently the French were not as well-positioned as they would have the English to believe.

CHAPTER TWENTY

James rode at a steady pace, breaking seldom to allow the horses he brought back with him a chance to rest. He knew he pushed them hard, but the closer he came to Chota Town the more urgent became his need to hurry. He held the lead rope to a large, well-formed roan. Following the stallion was a herd of five mares. Not one would stray far from their handsome stallion. It looked as if he might make it all the way without losing one horse. He could have taken on a couple of hands from the post, but who would have gone with a halfbreed to deliver ponies for a bride price? Besides, he wanted as few white people involved in this as possible. It surprised him that so many white people saw him and mistook him for a half-breed. He held his hand out in front of his face, a hand well tanned with a tint of the deep copper color of the People. A few more times of anointing with the stain and he'd be almost as dark as Dancing Cloud. His mind drifted to New Moon, as it so often did. To the shade of her skin, the way it felt beneath his fingertips. He inhaled deeply as if the action could better bring to mind the scent of her skin and hair. Soon ...soon the waiting would end and she would be his. His passion flared and the ache to possess her surged through him. James dug his heels into his mount's sides and whispered hoarsely, "Take me home, Eagle; times a wastin'!" After a short while he slowed, then stopped the horses. He sat very still and listened. The hair on the back of his neck stood up as a cold chill crept down his spine. It was quiet, too quiet. Even the horses tossed their heads nervously. He tilted his head back and held his arms wide at his sides, his palms open and turned upward. He was Red Panther, warrior of the Ani Yunwiya. He closed his eyes and chanted. The chant stopped suddenly and he kicked Eagle into action as he bent low over his neck. The Spirits, his own intuition, he didn't know which, had revealed to him that New Moon was in danger. *** A loud series of whoops sounded from the walled fortress of Chota Town as James broke into view. Wrapping the lead rope more tightly about his hand he galloped through the gate leading the roan stallion, not caring if any of the mares followed. As he reached Cloud he tossed the rope of the stallion down at his feet, "What has happened, my friend?" he asked, his voice deep with emotion and dread. "New Moon is missing. We have just realized she was taken from her secret place. The signs tell us it has not been long."

The bitter taste of bile rose in James's throat as he turned his mount and kicked him into a run. At breakneck speed he raced through the dangerously narrow gateway and up to the passage that led through the boulders to New Moon's secret place. Here he leapt from his horse's back and scrambled through the boulders. In the dimming light of early evening he searched the area, gathering every bit of information he could find. Before long he knew the spot from where his beloved had been abducted, where she was dragged struggling from the water and up toward the mountains on the far side of the river. He knew the warriors of the village would be preparing for the warpath, but in his heart Red Panther knew he did not have the three days to spend in purification. If he did not find New Moon soon he would lose her. He looked to the west. The sun was setting. He would not be able to follow the trail until the sun rose again. With angry jerks he stripped himself. Tonight only would he spend in preparation. The spirits would understand, or they wouldn't, but he would find New Moon. James plunged himself into the icy water and scrubbed is body free of the dirt accumulated by his hard ride home. Climbing to the top of the boulder he turned to face the setting sun. With both arms held high above his head he chanted the ancient songs to bring him closer to the spirits all around him. He called to the spirits of the wind, the forest, and he called to the spirit of his own totem, the panther. And though he knew the Great Spirit and the God of his childhood to be the same, he called upon God as well. The next morning, as the sun began to brighten the eastern sky, Red Panther dove from the boulder into the river. Finding his footing he rose up, his arms high above his head in welcome of the morning sun, and hastily completed the ceremony. Hurrying to the point where New Moon had been half dragged from the river, he took off in an easy trot. As he passed wild mountain berries he snatched a tiny fruit from the bush and put it into his mouth without slowing his pace. Something caught his eye and he stopped. His hand shook as he touched a fingertip to a crimson drop clinging to a berry leaf. Anger and fear pounded through his veins as he tested the firmness of the congealed drop of blood between his fingers. He would have to cover more ground in the daylight hours than the best Cherokee runner. He was running for her life ...and for his own. *** New Moon resisted the tug on the leather collar about her neck. She knew it would do no good. The warrior at the other end of the rope would allow her no more rest. Her body ached from the beating he had given her. The many scrapes and tears on her skin from the thorny brush and ragged rocks he'd pulled her through stung.

Had it been two days since he attacked her? Her mind was foggy. She could vaguely remember how he stripped her of her clothing and beat her senseless beneath the willow that she and Red Panther had lain beneath only days before. It was the custom in the treatment of captives. It was as he had been treated by her war party. He grinned hatefully as he tugged again on the rope. She looked at him with hate in her own eyes, but there was a measure of respect there as well. He stood proudly, there would be no slowing him down. It was time to move on. As she rose to her feet he let his eyes travel over her naked body. Had things been different he might have kept her for himself, but her spirit was too strong. She fought him like a wild cat. She had clawed at his flesh with her nails, and sunk her teeth into him several times. Warriors dreamed of such a woman at their sides, but this one would never be tamed. Better to beat her for the pain her war party had caused him and then trade her into slavery, if she survived that long. DuPrey was a fool to think he did not see through him. "Bring me the woman alive and unharmed and your reward will be great," he had said with the honey tongue of a snake. What had he given in reward to the red-men of their party up to now? Whisky, guns, and death! Such things were always a white man's reward to an Indian. He was the only one left. His brothers had given their lives to further the Frenchman's plan to humble the Cherokee. He did not see any of this war between the Cherokees that DuPrey had promised. He saw no weakening of their unity. All he saw was DuPrey...DuPrey, beloved friend of the Cherokee. No, he would not take the woman to DuPrey. Not alive anyway. He still had the knife he'd stolen from DuPrey's pack. Maybe he will kill her with it and then dump her where her people will find her. His mouth twisted into a sneering grin. Then DuPrey...most beloved DuPrey, would die the death that would have been his own, had he not escaped. With a cruel snarl he tugged on the rope in his hand, pulling New Moan forward so roughly that she fell face down to the hard ground. He turned and quickly started off in a trot, not caring that he dragged her several feet before she regained her footing. Soon the tension slacked and he gritted his teeth. She would be on her feet now. Her head would be held high and she would be matching his gait as easily as if they were lovers going to their secret place. He growled low in his throat and quickened his pace. He would show this woman warrior whose spirit was the strongest. The rope did not tighten. His temper flared and he gave the rope a nasty tug. New Moon stumbled but did not lose her footing. He stopped and turned to face her. She stood before him as proud as any warrior would, her feet braced wide apart.

Blood trickled down her scrapped knees, the side of her face swollen and her hair caked with congealed blood. She knew he was going to beat her again and this time she would die. If only she would submit to him, drop her eyes from his. But she couldn't. In a haze of physical pain and mental confusion she wondered why she had not seen this in her vision. He growled as he watched her. She stared into his eyes! Stealing his soul away bit by bit! He rushed at her and sent her sprawling to the ground with the back of his hand. Pain exploded in her ear and head as she felt a snap in her jaw. She spun around to land heavily on her stomach. Slowly she rolled to her back and looked up at him. No tears moistened her eyes, no whimper slipped from her lips. He fell on her with his full weight, knocking the air from her and still she did not submit but struggled to push him from her. He pinned her wrists with his hands and pushed himself upward, the weight of his lower body still pressing her to the ground. He lowered his face close to hers as he looked into the ebony fire of her eyes and a new lust took hold of him. She smiled. With an angry growl he pushed his hips harder against her. He was a warrior! He was purified for war! He could not defile his body so. He could not! Yet the burning in his body that had been slowly simmering from the time he'd first seen her now raged unchecked through him. He looked down at the rise and fall of her chest. It was the chest of a woman. If he took her here and then killed her who would know of it? He would know! The spirits would know! It would be much bad medicine to lose control. His eyes traveled to hers and he knew she meant to have his soul even if it meant her own death. He forced her legs apart and settled himself against her. He ground his teeth in an ugly sneer as he ground his hips against her and saw the tiniest spark of regret in her eyes. He laughed as he pulled her arms above her head and held them trapped in one hand as the other went to his bindings. He was mad with lust and anger at this woman warrior who could bring him to this point. She would suffer all the hell he felt at this moment, she would know the blackness of his soul before she died. A war whoop pierced his heart and stilled his hand just as he yanked his bindings free. In one motion he rolled from New Moon and jumped to his feet. A Cherokee warrior leapt from the boulder above to slam heavily into him. The two warriors fought viciously. The Mohawk knew he had defiled himself the moment he threw his body over the woman's. He angered the gods, and he would die. Too bad this avenging

angel had not been a moment later in coming. A moment later and he would not be going to his death with the knowledge that she had won. The two men fought like mad dogs while New Moon lay on her back looking up at the sky. It was clear blue, so beautiful, like his eyes. Her whole body ached, the pain almost more than she could bear. It had taken all her strength to last this long. Now she could do nothing but lie there while her mind floated fuzzily between light and darkness. She could not slip into the death sleep, not knowing if Panther... She could hear the sounds, as though through a tunnel. The sounds of fighting, of flesh slamming into flesh, the grunting sounds of two men pitting their strength against one another. The sky was no longer blue as the darkness crowded in around her, and she drifted into unconsciousness. *** James silently studied New Moon's face, now still and peaceful in sleep. Not far from where she had fallen there was an outcrop of rock that offered a limited amount of protection from the cold mountain winds. James padded the hard ground with pine needles and covered them over with the small strip of cloth the Mohawk had worn about his waist. This done, he built a small fire and then carried New Moon to the makeshift bed and laid her gently down. He recalled the pain he felt at hearing she had been taken from him and ground his teeth as flashes of the twisting, writhing body of her abductor came to his mind. The Mohawk had died well, but James had longed to hear the strangled cries. He would have drawn out the suffering of New Moon's abductor if he had thought it would further avenge her pain or his own. Not too long ago he would have refused to believe himself capable of such torture to another, but then neither would he have believed himself capable of the love he felt for New Moon. James raised himself in one fluid motion, oblivious of his own pain and fatigue, and moved toward the dying embers of their fire. He must hurry before the sun rose. He held his hands over the coals until they became hot and moist while he looked over his shoulder at his sleeping woman. He gripped his hands into fists to retain the heat and returned to New Moon and knelt down beside her. He crossed his arms on his chest and lowered his head as if in prayer and chanted softly. As his prayer rose in volume and tempo he raised his head and arms to the sky. With tears sliding down his cheeks, James called out to an ancient god, "Listen! 0, now you have drawn near to hear."

He lowered his gaze to her face and satisfied himself that she still slept. Raising his right hand to his lips, he moistened his fingers. Very gently he drew his moistened fingertips across her breasts and sang softly, "Listen! Hear! Now the souls have come together. You are of the Wolf clan. Your name is Nu-ta- te-qua; I am of the white man's clan. Your body, I take it, I claim it. Listen! Hear! Now our souls have come together." Again he touched his fingers to his tongue and repeated the chant while he gently applied the moisture to her soft flesh. New Moon stirred slightly and James waited for her to quiet before he brought his fingers to his lips for a third time to caress her breast and recite twice the next lines to the ancient spell, "You are of the Wolf clan. Your name is Nu-ta-te-qua. I am of the white man's clan. Your Spirit, I take it, I claim it. Listen! Hear! Now our souls have come together." His fingers returned again to his lips and then to her as he gently and lovingly caressed her breasts. Her skin was becoming chilled and he was concerned that she would open her eyes before he could complete the Cherokee ritual that he now felt driven to complete. "You are of the Wolf clan. Your name is Nu-ta-te-qua. I am of the white man's clan. Your heart, I take it, I claim it. Listen! Hear! Now our souls have come together." He turned his face heavenward and completed the ancient prayer that would bind her to him forever. "Listen! Hear! Now our souls have met, never to part, you have said, 0 Ancient One above. 0 Black Spider, you have been brought down from on high. You have let down your web. She is of the Wolf clan; her name is Nu-ta-te-qua. Her soul you have wrapped up in your web. Listen! Hear! Whither can her soul escape? 0 Black Spider, may you bind her soul to mine that it shall never part. What is the name of the soul? The two have come together. It is mine! 0 Ancient One, we have become as one. The woman has put her soul into our hands. We shall never let it go!" James looked again to the sleeping face and his lips parted in a smile as he lowered his lips to her chest. There, between her breasts, he kissed her gently to seal the prayer and close the web. As his warm lips touched her chilled flesh New Moon awakened. Raising her hands she wound her fingers through his hair and pulled him upward so her lips could join to his. The touch was as light as the touch of a butterfly and then her fingers went limp and her hands slid downward. James caught her wrists and lowered her hands to her side. The sun was up, but the air was still chilled and James was concerned for New Moon's health. He quickly added more kindling to the fire, kissed her gently on the forehead and set out to find game for food and hides to keep her warm. Two days and nights passed as James nursed New Moon bark to health. He gave thanks that this time she was not as near to death as before.

She recovered quickly. Tomorrow they would start their journey home. He sat down, his back against the hard rock wall. As he watched the darkness settle beyond the light of the camp fire, the night became alive with the songs of frogs and crickets and an occasional sad, lonely cry of a wolf. New Moon walked over to where he sat and looked down at him. With a grin she settled between his legs and leaned back against his strong, warm chest as she slid her toes closer to the crackling campfire. James wrapped his arms about her and pulled her close against him as he nuzzled her hips and legs between his thighs. Soon they would be back in the village and in their own lodges, no longer needing to camp in a small rock crevice and share their body warmth to survive the night. New Moon held his forearms and gently ran her fingertips through the fine mat of hair. A smile touched her lips. She loved a white man. She ran her fingers back up his arm and watched the play of reflecting light from the campfire on the golden fur. Not just any white man she mused, a very hairy white man. Sighing, she tilted her head back and nuzzled his neck. She turned slightly in his arms and pressed her face against his neck and breathed deeply. Her tongue darted out to taste his skin and then on impulse she took a nip. "Ouch!" James chuckled. He raised a hand to rub the pad of his thumb along her jaw and over the soft fullness of her bottom lip. As if drawn, he lowered his lips toward her but stopped a breath-space away. "I purified myself for your rescue, Wa-sa. Would you tempt me beyond my endurance? Would you risk our safe return to the village where your brother sits happily among the horses I will pay him?" New Moon's eyes leapt for joy and she reached to pull his face to hers. James caught her wrist and grinned ruefully, "Careful, Little Wa-sa. It's hard enough for me to resist you with you pressed so comfortably between my legs. Don't tempt me further." He brought her knuckles to his lips and kissed them gently before lowering them back to her own waist. "Rest now, my love," he whispered. "In two days we will back in the village and I promise, you will receive full measure for all the torture you're putting me through." New Moon obediently settled back and closed her eyes. How could he rest? Her own skin was on fire. He had to be able to feel the beat of her heart beneath his arms. She could feel the beat of his heart against her back and it made her ache to turn over and wrap her arms around him. She shifted and his heart picked up its tempo. Smiling she shifted again and was rewarded by the sudden manifestation of throbbing heat against her backside. As a ragged moan escaped him, and his grip on her became almost painful, she strained to press her hips more firmly into his lap.

"Wa-sa! Be still!" he growled in a half croak. "It's your custom I'm trying to observe here, not my own. Must you continually test me?" Suddenly the heat was gone as he released her and stood. She looked up but he would not return her look as he stepped from the shelter of the small overhang. There, on the other side of the fire, he lowered himself. This was where he would spend the night, his back to her, his eyes scanning the dark for danger. She trembled in the sudden chill and sighed heavily as she wrapped her arms about herself. James breathed deeply as he stared out into the night. Why did she test him? Was she hell bent on proving him unworthy? Did she not know the torture she put him through? With disgust for his own lack of self-control, he kneaded his sweating palms together. Damn, he swore, but these Indians had restrictions that could send even a Puritan straight to hell. Just one more night, he assured himself. Then I'll never have to hold myself from her again.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE A shout rose up from the watchman of the gate as Red Panther and New Moon emerged into the clearing that surrounded the village. The old beloved woman quickly hurried through the gate with a robe to place about New Moon. Clucking like an old hen the elderly woman ushered her back toward the village. Just before disappearing through the gate New Moon looked back at James, her eyes twinkling with promise and her lips spread in a smile that made his heart jump and his stomach tighten. As James passed through the gate he was met by Dancing Cloud who slapped him warmly on the shoulder. "Panther, it is good you have returned to us. I see your scalp," he said, pointing to the scalp at James's waist. "Will his blood cry?" "He killed New Moon's brother. He would have killed New Moon. He got what he deserved." Dancing Cloud nodded his approval, "Good. It is finished." With a sideways glance he asked, "Did New Moon accept you?" "Yes." "Good! I would not have given back the bride price." Dancing Cloud said jovially. Noticing Red Panther's down-cast expression he said, "You do not look good, my friend. I do not understand. You saved your woman, killed your enemy, you were alone in the mountains with New Moon. You should have come back strutting like that new stallion of mine."

James looked confused as he stared at Dancing Cloud, "Yes, I killed my enemy." He sounded incredulous. "I saved my woman, but the nights alone with my conquest were the most difficult of all. This custom of yours, of a warrior not defiling himself when on the warpath, almost killed me." Dancing Cloud fought valiantly with his features but soon gave up and crumpled over in great laughter. James waited patiently for the chief to regain his composure. Finally the chief straightened and wiped his eyes as his face once again molded itself into the mask of total sobriety. "You must have strong medicine." He let his eyes casually roam about the village as if in thought, "Much control." With this last statement he turned his back to James and walked away. The village Shaman hurried from his lodge, his hands filled with a variety of rattles and pouches of herbs, toward Red Panther. As he neared the chief, Dancing Cloud reached out and caught his arm. Pulling the old man close Cloud leaned toward his ear as if to whisper, but rather said very loudly, "You will not need all of those things. Red Panther did not break purification." The old man looked at the chief in surprise and then to James. James, in an attempt to ignore the scene the Chief was causing, allowed his gaze to wander about the village. To his dismay every face was turned his way. It seemed the entire village could find nothing of more interest than his sex life! Tucking his rattles back into his medicine pouch the shaman turned, and with one last glance at James, walked with Dancing Cloud back to his lodge. The sting of Dancing Cloud's mirth and the stunned silence of the other warriors who watched him were more than James could bear. With his back straight and the look of a thundercloud on his face he moved through the village toward his own lodge. He did not notice the show of respect he received from every villager. Even the children stopped their playing to watch the mighty Panther walk past. James passed by his lodge, never hearing the welcoming whinny from Eagle. He had one thought in mind. He angrily strode around the cane that sheltered the bathing section of the lake and then, without even removing his loincloth, walked out into the water till it was waist-high. There he stood, motionless, until the children's muffled giggles reached his ears. James suddenly realized the coldness of the water and quickly washed himself. Turning he raised his arms high, made the most frightening face he could and charged the giggling children who screamed with delight and ran in all directions. He wrung out his hair and hurried back to his lodge where he hoped Akachee would have a warm fire burning.

He was not disappointed. He also found his buckskins and a new pair of soft moccasins waiting for him. On a pole beside his bed furs hung two scalps. Akachee had already painted the insides red. Now they waited for him to tie at his waist. Hanging beside the scalps was his bone vest, which she had polished and decorated with fluffy swan feathers. As James stepped from his wet loincloth he let a vision of New Moon standing in the moonlight pass through his mind and he felt better than he had since returning to the village. Tonight he would offer the bride price to Cloud before witnesses and New Moon would accept. Tonight all the waiting would end. James picked up the pair of plucking shells which Akachee had also left out for him and walked over to the fire. Making himself comfortable against the backrest he started in on the task of plucking his chest hair. He was lucky that he was not overly covered, but what he did have was quite a chore. The Indian considered body hair unattractive and the male, more concerned about his appearance than the most pompous dandy, was fastidious about plucking every single hair that sprouted anywhere besides on his scalp. So fastidious, in fact, most white men thought the male Indian actually devoid of body hair. "Ouch!" he grunted as a particularly stubborn stubble broke free. He had quickly learned that shaving his body only tended to create a beard effect on his chest and so had to adopt the unpleasant method of his red brothers ...plucking. Finally he tossed down the Indian tweezers and ran a testing hand along his jaw and chest. He looked down at the lower part of his body and frowned at the light covering of hair that gleamed in the firelight. He rubbed a hand up the outside of one leg and decided the rest could stay. There was only so much plucking he was willing to do. James rose and fetched the bear oil from Akachee's things, and rubbed a small amount on his stinging skin. He then picked up his brush and raked it through his hair until it hung in a straight, bright curtain of gleaming auburn that reached past his massive shoulders. Dancing Cloud's voice called from outside. James hastily pulled on a dry loincloth before bidding him welcome. As Cloud stepped through the doorway James could not miss the gleam of mischief in his friend's eyes. "How is the celebration coming along?" James asked anxiously. Dancing Cloud looked at his irritated chest, "It is time to go. There will be much to celebrate. As he turned to leave he said over his shoulder, "It is a shame New Moon will miss it." "What?" Dancing Cloud turned back to him, "She is in the woman's lodge," he said in explanation and walked out.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO The next five days dragged by with James pacing like a caged animal. Finally Akachee could stand no more and raised such a racket about his mood that he left the village in search of deer. When he returned from his hunt, he was pleased to learn New Moon no longer resided in the woman's lodge. The village was a hive of activity. Tonight would be a special night. It would be the joining of Red Panther and New Moon. "I have taken your things to New Moon's lodge," Akachee said, a crack in her voice. James stepped up to her and pulled her into his arms. "I will see that you have plenty of bear grease for your hair," he rubbed a hand over her head and she looked up at him, "and food, and you should know that I'd never let you be without furs to keep warm." He squeezed her close and put his cheek to her forehead, "Besides, I plan to keep New Moon busy giving me sons. If I do not keep you happy who will watch over my sons while I make more?" Akachee pushed backward but not out of his arms. She looked into his grinning face, "Well, I hope you have very strong medicine. When the chief's runner returned and said you had captured New Moon's abductor all the warriors lay down bets that you had broken purification. It took a long time for you to return. The bets became high." James glared down at Akachee. Was there nothing these people would not place a wager on? Akachee became nervous and tried to pull away. "Oh, no, mother. You are staying right here till you tell me all of it. Who bet that I did not break purification?" Akachee grinned, "The chief is a very wealthy warrior." James through back his head and laughed. Akachee pushed from his arms, "You may laugh, but the warriors do not know what to think about you. Many now believe you have very strong medicine and you and New Moon will have a son. Others say that New Moon is barren. They say her spirit is too strong for her to have a child." "How does the Chief bet?" James asked. "He bet all that he has won from the other warriors that New Moon will not conceive." "Then for the sake of the village, I must make stronger medicine than New Moon."

Akachee snorted, "Her spirit is too strong. You will have to take a second wife." Akachee brightened, "Have you noticed Yellow Flower?" James made a face, "She is too meek by far for me, mother. I need a woman that is strong." "You mistake meekness for weakness, my son. Yellow Flower is very strong." James raised both hands, "Enough, Mother," he warned. "I will not have you making such talk in front of New Moon." He pulled his knife from its sheath. "Go prepare for the celebration, I need to cut off the deer's feet for New Moon." *** James rode proudly into the center of the village square, atop a large roan stallion. He rode up close to the chief and dismounted. Dancing Cloud made a show of looking over the stallion while James looked down at New Moon with a solemn expression etched on his face. He walked around her, noting the high tilt to her chin, the straightness of her back. He grinned at the tiny flowers braided into her hair as he wondered absently how many would be left by morning. James walked back around to face New Moon, but did not look her in the eye. His eyes were drawn to the fringe of her white doeskin dress. The breeze gently lifted the narrow strips of doe hide, into which she had braided tiny, colorful shells. They dangled down from her full bust-line and chimed softly in the breeze. New Moon's heart was swollen near to bursting with pride as she watched Red Panther ride up to the clearing. Never had there been a more impressive warrior in her village. His unusual colored hair hung in a soft, straight line from the crown of his head to rest upon the bulge of the massive muscles of his chest. She saw the twinkle in his eye when he looked at her own hair and knew he liked what he saw. She watched as he swung gracefully from his horse and walked up so close to her that she had to tilt her head back to look him in the face. Her skin was brought so alive by his nearness that as the heat of his body reached out to her it felt as if he were caressing her. She wanted to reach out and touch his arm, his face, to run her fingers through his hair. She wanted to yank the bone vest from his chest and her own covering from hers so she could press her aching breasts against his hot skin. She forced herself to stand still as he walked around behind her as if looking her over in consideration of the purchase. As he came back around her his eyes caressed her.

He flashed her the tiniest of grins and then took a quick step back and turned to Dancing Cloud; "I will buy a wife." A loud cheer erupted from the crowd that looked on. Dancing Cloud showed no expression as he looked to New Moon and back to Red Panther. "What do you offer as a bride price?" "This stallion, and four mares," James answered loudly so all could hear. The crowd mumbled among themselves. New Moon's heart beat unsteadily, and her breathing became labored. Never had a warrior or even a chief offered so much for a woman. Above the sound of her own heart beating in her ears, she heard the chief ask, "What if my sister does not want you?" New Moon looked over at her brother in surprise, not realizing or even caring that she no longer had control over her features. A cocky smile spread across Red Panther's face as he looked from Dancing Cloud to New Moon, where his eyes collided with and held hers. "Then I will steal her away." The crowd erupted again with louder shouts of encouragement from the warriors. "If she still will not except you?" Dancing Cloud pushed. James looked to the chief and frowned, "Then you may keep the bride price." Dancing Cloud nodded. He took New Moon by the arm and pulled her forward, "You may ask her." James held out a deer's foot in an open palm. New Moon looked at the foot as the moments ticked by and the crowd waited anxiously. Slowly she reached out her hand, her fingertips resting lightly on the heel of his palm. She looked up into his eyes as she slowly pulled her fingers along his palm toward the token of his promise to always provide for her. Touching the foot she picked it up and enclosed it within her own hand. Still she said nothing and the crowd waited. Everyone knew she would accept. No one would offer such a price without knowing first if the woman he bargained for would accept him, but still the villagers were hanging by a thread as they watched the romantic play unfolding before them. "I will sit with you tonight, but I will not let you know my decision until later," New Moon said loudly.

The warriors immediately turned to one another and busied themselves laying bets as to what Red Panther would do next. New Moon turned to walk away but a strong arm shot out to grab her about the waist and pull her up tightly. James turned to the roan, which Dancing Cloud was conveniently holding steady, and tossed her roughly across his back. New Moon gasped, as the air was knocked from her lungs, too stunned to struggle. The crowd forgot their betting and raised such a racket of whooping and cheering that no one could have heard if she had put up a protest. Red Panther swung up behind her. Pressing a big hand to her back he turned the stallion and raced toward the gate and out of the village. As they drew up to the boulders that sheltered their secret place he slid from the horse's back and pulled New Moon down into his arms. "What do you think you are doing? You are supposed to wait until I accept you!" "Or, I can steal you away. I choose to steal you away." He lowered his mouth to hers and immediately her anger was gone. She entwined her fingers in his hair and pulled, bringing his lips tighter to her own. He raised his face from hers. Turning with her still in his arms, he pushed her hard against the boulder. His eyes traveled every inch of her face, with his fingers he touched her cheek, outlined her eyes, caressed her nose before his lips claimed hers again. The waiting was over. When next their lips parted she asked, "What about the stallion? My brother will be angry if he wanders off." James breathed deeply of the scent of her hair. "He knows where his mares are." New Moon pushed back in his arms and looked into his eyes. He could see her belief in him, in his worthiness. His time of proving himself to her was over. "Let me go to our secret place and prepare." Her voice carried the promise of a lifetime filled with happiness and fulfillment. James said nothing as he nodded and New Moon slipped between the boulders. He turned and leaned his back against the cold surface of the stone and looked up at the darkening sky. The stars were just becoming visible. Tonight their souls would soar to those stars. Tonight she would become his forever, and he knew what he'd said to Thomas would be true. She would never belong to another. Into the night he said, "Looks like you owe me a watch, Thomas."

James waited until the sky was filled with twinkling sparks of light; he could wait no longer. Taking a strap from about his waist he tethered the stallion and then slipped between the boulders. He emerged on the other side where he stopped to look at New Moon's preparation for their wedding night. Not the largest bedchamber in the grandest estate would have been more perfect for their joining. Seven small fires, built in a semicircle about a large willow held back the darkness. The flickering light reflected off tiny shells tied into the hanging branches. Tiny turtle rattles, along with flower bulbs and sweet mints, chimed in the gentle breeze, while bulbs and mints filled the air with their aroma. Beneath the chiming canopy lay a white buffalo robe. In its center knelt New Moon. Apart from the tiny flowers still tied in her hair, her body was adorned with nothing. James drank in her beauty with his eyes, wanting to see all that he would soon feel with his hands and with his body. Slowly he pulled his vest over his head and let it drop to the ground. The rest of his clothing he stripped from his body like unwanted rags. New Moon glanced up at him from beneath lowered lashes. Unlike her, whose body was the same warm dusty color from head to toe, his own body, where it had been covered by his loincloth, was pale and glowing in the soft light of the camp fire, and his desire for her was unmistakable. As New Moon settled back on her heels she dropped her eyes. In uncertainty she turned her head slightly to one side. James was confused. He had seen her turn away a mountain cat with no more than the power of her own will. He had witnessed her determination on the warpath, had watched her hold death at bay not once, but twice. When held captive, she took abuse that would have killed any other woman, yet now she looked away. He knew he was not mistaken in the interpretation of her response to his caresses, and knew the passion in which she faced all of life was there in her need for him as well. Yet now she dropped her head and trembled in uncertainty. He covered the space between them with long strides and dropped to his knees before her. Reaching out to place a finger beneath her chin he tilted her face up. He studied the black, moist eyes. "Why do you tremble So Little Wa-sa? I know you are as ready for this as I am." He raised his other arm and with a sweeping motion indicated all that was around them, "The spirits bless our union." New Moon tried to drop her face but he held her chin tight between his finger and thumb.

"You are different from my people." The vision of a beautiful white woman held in the arms of her beloved floated before her. "A woman of the Ani Yunwiya is taught from childhood how to be a wife and to please her warrior, but I have always been teased that my spirit is too strong to be pleasing, and much too defiant." Panther would have none of her self-pity. "But I am drawn by your strength and find your defiance a challenge." "Yes. I know. But I am so very different from the women of your people. In your world a woman belongs to her husband. It is not so among The People. I will never belong to you in the way you want. Some day you will miss the life you used to have. You will go back, and find a white woman that is all that your people love in a woman. You..." James put a finger to her lips, "I do not know where all this foolishness came from, but let me tell you now, and never question my love for you again. You say that you do not belong to me, but you do. You belong to me the same as these marks on my chest, the same as the heart that beats beneath them. You are mine, and I am yours. Igo hi dv, forever. Nothing in this life or in the one after will ever change that. Some day you will know this as I do." He took her small hand in his larger one and turned it over. He unclenched her finger and raised her palm to his lips. He kissed her palm and then lay a trail of warm kisses to her wrist and up to the bend of her elbow, drawing her up. He wrapped her arm about his neck as he slid his other arm about her waist and pulled her close against himself. Lowering his hands to her hips he pulled her closer still. An odd little whimpering sound escaped from between her lips and he felt the vibration clear to his heart. He was intensely aware of her soft curves pressed against his hardness, of the scent of her flesh, the beat of her heart against his chest. His blood raced. Between clenched teeth, his lips close to hers, he half groaned half whispered, "I have claimed you, woman. You are mine!" He crushed his lips to hers in a kiss that left no doubt in either of their minds. She felt his power as it reached through his body to hers to caress her until she ached with longing. Her skin burned hot with the passion he fought to hold in check. She needed to feel that heat. She pulled away and lay back on the fur, bringing him with her. He held himself above her as his eyes feasted a moment longer on her beauty. Then he lowered his chest to her stomach as he captured her breast with his mouth, and she felt the heat of his lips against her sensitive skin. Oh, how she needed to feel his heat. She felt it on her inner thigh as she pulled her legs up along the outside of his. She felt it as she rubbed her hands along the bulging muscles of his back and down to the firm hardness of his hips.

He groaned as he pressed and rocked against her and she couldn't resist digging her fingertips into the smooth strong muscles to urge him on. The throb was so intense now it was painful. His kisses on her neck set her whole body burning with a fire only he could quench. His mouth claimed hers and she welcomed the almost brutal assault before he reined in the power that was so much a part of him. He filled her mouth with his tongue and she held it eagerly with her own. Passion thundered through them. His tongue matched the rhythmic motion of his hips. His manhood was hard and hot against he soft skin of her stomach. He was so close ...so close. Her body and her soul screamed out for him to press inside of her in the age old joining of two persons into one. His tongue stroked the inside of her mouth and their moans mingled. His hand cupped her breast and she strained to press it tighter against his palm. He rocked his hips and she pulled him closer as she arched her back. She grew mad with longing, and pushed him lower. He dropped his mouth to her breast, sucking, pulling hard on the beaded rosy nub. His teeth rasped the sensitive skin, inflaming her. His will became her own as he led her higher and higher. She gasped for air as his hand slide down her belly and then went lower to dip between her legs. She strained and pushed upward as he stroked her to the brink of madness. He groaned as he brought his lips back to hers and settled himself between her legs. New Moon reached between them to guide him. As her fingers closed around his hard shaft he shuddered mightily and quickly pulled her hand away. "It is too late for that caress, Wa-sa," he groaned as he drove into her. His hips moved against hers, creating an unbearable friction. She wrapped her legs tighter about him and urged her closer, closer. Her hands clasp his hips and she felt the sheer animal power of him. Explosion after explosion erupted in her body as he slammed over and over into her as at last they become one. They worked and strained together in perfect harmony. Giving and taking what the other offered until each could give and take no more, until they lay exhausted in each other's arms, still joined and not wanting to part. Panther stroked long, lean fingers along her sensitive skin. "Did I hurt you, Wa-sa?" he whispered into her ear and her body tightened around him as the sound of his voice and the feel of his breath sent a primitive surge through her body.

She felt him harden and jump to life as he pressed into her. It was all so natural, so right. How could she have ever doubted the Great Spirit? Now she could even believe she was not barren. The child the spirits tell her must be born ...her child, Panther's child...will be born. Beneath the stars and the gently swaying limbs of the old willow, they made love again, the giving and taking of one another that sealed their souls and their bodies. As sounds of their lovemaking mingled with the sounds of tiny shells blowing in the breeze and the night sounds of nature, the spirits looked on and were pleased. The journey had begun.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE DuPrey looked up from the embers of his dying fire. Across the room from where he sat crosslegged, Laughing Woman stretched sensuously on the bed of fur, and looked longingly in his direction. He would bed her tonight and every time he would drive into her he would think of New Moon. He waited two days at the place where Winds Blowing was to meet him with New Moon. Two days of anticipation on just how he would save New Moon from her captor. How he would send an arrow straight through the villain's heart and then scalp him in seemingly great rage for what he had done to New Moon and her people during the renegade raids. Two days of thinking about how she would spread her legs for him; or if she wouldn't willingly, the pleasures he would have in convincing her. DuPrey rose angrily to his feet and tossed his tin cup to the side. The Goddammed bastard betrayed him. The unreliable savage was probably humping New Moon himself right now! He walked over to Laughing Woman and looked down at her as he pulled off his clothing. She looked at his still flaccid member and dread fluttered across her features. DuPrey smiled as her apparent distress illustrated the first faint twitch of anticipation in his otherwise dead sex organ. He kicked at her feet and she spread her legs obediently. He knelt down and placed a hand to each side of her head. "Are you just going to lay there?" he hissed and slapped her hard. "Touch me, you bitch!" He hit her again, harder this time and her temper flared. Laughing Woman doubled up her fist and hit him in the stomach as hard as she could. He didn't flinch. She struggled frantically to work free, but her efforts were of no avail. Eyes bulged and saliva dripped as he laughed at her struggles. With little effort he caught her wrists and leaned down to her ear to coo in an almost gentle voice, "That's better. Fight me! I like that." ***

The day was warm for early fall. The air filled with the smells of roasting meat and tanning hides. New Moon and Sparrow pulled the rawhide straps stretching the deer hide tightly in place on the standing frame. New Moon straightened and wiped her wrist across her damp forehead. She had much to do before Panther returned from the hunt and even more to do after. He already provided their lodge with plenty o£ meat and hides for the long winter months. Now he hunted for Akachee. She looked over at Akachee who worked diligently at scraping a hide free of meat. New Moon knew that Akachee resented her, wanting Panther to take her back to her own village where he could marry a Choctaw woman, but Akachee wasn't letting her resentment keep her from working. Sparrow tied off her rope and ran over to Akachee. "Tell me a story, Akachee, please." Akachee gave the child a toothless grin and patted her cheek. New Moon knew that before long children would surround the old woman. She smiled. Akachee loved the children. It did not matter to her that the little ones were Cherokee. New Moon walked to the next hide and tested it with her fingers. It was ready to be brain-tanned. As she turned to check on the cooling brain mixture she spotted DuPrey and Blue Feathers from the next village walking in her direction. She raised a hand to shield her eyes from the sun and watched them approach. "Ah, New Moon," the Frenchman sighed and reached out to take her hand. "It is good to see you well and looking so happy. You have been through much hard times." New Moon withdrew her hand and looked uncomfortably at Blue Feathers and then back to DuPrey. His habit of always taking up her hand unnerved her. As he had explained to her once it was the way a gentleman from his country showed respect to a woman he held in high regard, she accepted. DuPrey always showed respect for Cherokee customs and so she tried to keep her uneasiness about this unusual custom of touch to herself. Yet, now that she was married, it made her more uneasy than ever. She instinctively knew Panther would not approve. She ran the back of her hand down the side of her buckskin skirt in an unconscious gesture. "I must continue with my work." Turning she bent down to dip a wooden scoop into the brain mixture. When she turned back around the expression on DuPrey's face sparked a quickening in her senses. Danger. The slight tremor in her hand stopped and her back stiffened. She would face the danger he posed and she would overcome it. Stepping up to the stretched hide she slowly pored the mixture along the top edge and worked it in with her fingers.

DuPrey eagerly reached out a hand to the wet hide, "Here, let me help you," he offered as his hand slid over hers. New Moon hastily removed her own hand and smiled sweetly. "Thank-you. I always hate putting my hands into this." She grinned even bigger when she saw frustration flicker in his eyes. After several minutes of working the skin DuPrey helped to cut it loose and then fold it into a large bucket of water to soak. "There," DuPrey straightened and wiped his wet hands on his buckskins. "Now that that's done, why don't we go rest under the shade over there and have a talk?" "I do not have time to stop. See?" New Moon pointed to a large basket of corn needing to be shucked. DuPrey turned to Blue Feathers and waved his hand toward the basket. "Well, pick it up, Blue, and take it to the shade over there." He turned back to New Moon. "It looks like we will get to sit under that shade tree after all." Sparrow and Akachee watched with great interest as the large Indian retrieved the basket and carried it to the spot DuPrey indicated and sat it down. New Moon appeared to be unconcerned as she walked over and sat down beside the basket. Sparrow leaned over to Akachee, "I don't like that white man." Akachee looked down at Sparrow and then back to DuPrey. "Nether do I. I think it is best that you stay away from him." "I think New Moon should stay away from him," Sparrow quipped. "Why is he here?" "I do not know, little one, but I will tell Panther about his visit." "Good!" Sparrow said in relief. "Panther will make him stay away." Later when the two visitors went to the visitor's lodge Sparrow followed. Hiding behind the low built structure Sparrow spotted a small crack between the cane where the mud mortar had come loose and fallen out. Moving as quietly as she could she crawled up to the crack and pressed her ear up close. "My contact was right, that bastard is an English agent." The Frenchman's hands fisted and flexed at his side as he paced back and forth. "I'm convinced New Moon knows nothing, all the better for her. By God I'll get rid of that English scum, and the sooner the better!" Sparrow turned her head to look through the hole. DuPrey paced angrily while Blue Feathers stood tall and stiff to one side.

"We must devise a plan. By marrying New Moon he placed himself in too high a position in the tribe to just kill him out right." "It is too bad that you did not marry her yourself. Then you would have come to live in this village and would have blessed its people with your great knowledge and love for the Principal People." DuPrey did not notice the sneer in Feather's voice. "That plan is still a good one, but things are a bit more complicated now. We must get the Englishman out of Chota. We will kill him and blame the renegades." "Is this not how New Moon's first husband died?" DuPrey paced past Blue Feathers without responding. "I have a plan," Blue Feathers spoke up and DuPrey turned anxiously. "I will send a runner to Telleco. He will tell our brothers we have learned that Red Panther is an enemy to our people. He will tell them how sad it makes your heart for such a one to be among us and that we must kill him before he spreads his poison further." Blue Feathers paused. DuPrey was actually rubbing his hands together in his excitement. "Good, good. Continue, please," he implored anxiously. Blue Feathers allowed a small smile. "You and I will go out to meet this most evil of men and tell him that we know a good place, where there are many turkey with beautiful feathers. He will gladly come with us. We will take him down from the mountains by way of the elk-trail..." DuPrey held up his hands, "Wait, doesn't the elk trail lead toward English territory? It would be better to take him west toward the Mississippi." "What you say is wise, but he may become suspicious and not come with us. He will have no fear traveling with us along the Elk Trail. Remember, he does not know you have learned of his treachery and going in that direction will not alert him." DuPrey rubbed a hand over his mouth and peered at Blue Feathers through his big bugged eyes. "You are right, Blue Feathers. Go and make arrangements for an ambush, but go yourself to Telleco. "I will meet you there in two days and then we will return here to meet with Red Panther and convince him to join us. Once he is in our custody we can take him to New Orleans and turn him over for questioning." He gave a nasty snort, "Or, we could kill him on the spot. Well don't just stand there, man," he impatiently waved a hand at Feathers. "Go, go! Do what needs to be done. I have a few things to do here." Feathers nodded solemnly and left the lodge.

Sparrow sat crouched and trembling, too frightened to move. DuPrey was going to hurt Panther. She had to tell New Moon. Without warning strong arms grabbed her from behind and roughly yanked her from the ground. Before she could gather enough air into her compressed lungs to cry out a cruel hand slapped across her mouth. She felt the hot, wet flutter of his breath against her neck as he pressed his lips to her ear and whispered, "Well, well. It looks as if I have captured a little bird." Stark terror raced through Sparrow's being as she struggled frantically against his grip. "Such a little thing. What did you think you were doing, tiny, little thing?" Trimmer after trimmer shook her as her mind raced wildly. She managed to work one arm free and swung her hand back to swat at the mouth that tormented with words of terror. Her thumb sunk into something soft and moist and DuPrey grunted as he flung her from him. She landed hard. Pushing herself up she looked back to see DuPrey clutching at his eye. She had jabbed a finger into the hateful orb and the sight of blood slipping from beneath his hand gave her a moment of triumph. Then his good eye leveled on her and the fear returned. She scrambled to her feet and ran. She didn't know which way to go, just away from him. She could hear him thrashing after her, her heart beat so fast that it hurt within her chest. She pressed harder. She had to get away. Her foot snagged. Pain ...such pain in her foot. The air rushed from her lungs. A soft whimper. Darkness. DuPrey snatched the unconscious girl up and tucked her under one arm. He stepped into the cornfield, the stalks were withered, but they offered sufficient covering till he reached the cane that grew against the tall wall of the fortress. He pressed himself close against the wall and slowly made his way to the stream. Careful not to cause undue ripples, he lowered himself slowly into the water and ducked beneath its surface to come up again on the opposite side of the wall. Sparrow jerked awake as the cold water engulfed her and she struggled weakly, but the fear of drowning caused her to cling to DuPrey and hold her breath. When DuPrey emerged on the other side he pulled Sparrow up like a wet puppy and cuffed her hard on the jaw. Tucking her once again under his arm he scrambled quickly up the bank. "This is almost too easy," he sneered as he readjusted Sparrows weight and headed for the cliffs.

The climb was treacherous and took longer than he would have liked, but he could easily be spotted and had to move carefully from one cover to the next. Reaching a high peak he pushed Sparrow's limp body up the last few inches and then over.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR James, DuPrey and Blue Feathers stepped out of the forest into a small clearing. DuPrey stole a glance in Feathers direction and nodded. Immediately Feathers took hold of one of DuPrey's arms and bend it painfully behind his back. "What are you doing, you fool!" DuPrey struggled against the hold only to have his other arm captured by James. "Turn me loose this instant!" he snarled like a caged animal. At the sound of rustling brush he swung his head in that direction, still foolishly thinking that he had not been captured in his own snare. "Captain Ingram," James nodded as he spoke to the English officer. "Col. Fitz-Gerald, I presume." the captain responded. Beau stepped out from behind a large tree and then leaned casually against its trunk. James and Beau exchanged silent nods. DuPrey cackled like a mad man and all turned to look in his direction. "Yes, Goddammit! You presume right." His head swung to James, "You may have won but at great cost to you. I actually thought about letting the little bitch live, but then she put my eye out. Hurt like a sonofabitch too. So I pushed her over the top." He laughed again and Feathers backed away. James felt himself sway as fear slammed into him. He jerked DuPrey's arm up high behind him and pulled. He felt DuPrey's shoulder slipping and heard his screams through the roar of anger in his own head. It took three blows to James's mid-section to make him break his hold. He doubled over and fell to his knees. Captain Ingram knelt down beside him. "Sorry, but I had to do that." James didn't think he sounded sorry. "Orders are to take him back alive." The Captain ran a hand through his hair. "Look, I don't know who he killed that was so important to you, but I am truly sorry about your loss. We need to be moving on now. Governor Glen will be wanting to take your report as soon as we get there." James half heard what the Captain said, as he searched for the emptiness in his soul that would be there if New Moon was dead. She couldn't be gone. He'd feel it if she were.

James looked up at DuPrey. Only one bugged eye was visible, the right one being covered. The swelling and bruising could be seen around the edges of the patch. Whoever put his eye out did a good job of it, but it wasn't New Moon ...it couldn't be New Moon. DuPrey laughed again as the British soldiers pulled him toward a horse. James stood unsteadily to his feet. "I'll not be going back with you, Captain. Tell Glenn anything you like about the capture, my days of glory are over as far as England is concerned." Beau placed a hand on James's shoulder, "I'll go back with you." "No, Beau, that wont be necessary. You just make sure that bastard pays." "That's a promise, col." Captain Ingram and the others watched as James and Blue Feathers disappeared back into the forest. *** A journey of two and a half days out took only one day and night to return. New Moon ran through the gate and into James's arms with such force that she staggered him. Blue Feathers did not wait but discreetly passed through the gate and entered the village. "Panther," New Moon sobbed. "You must find her, she is so weak. She can not last much longer." "Who, Wa-sa? Who?" James felt his own relief becoming covered over by her near panic. He shook her hard, "Who, Wa-sa, tell me...Who!" "Ooh, Panther ...she is so tiny, so very tiny, we must hurry!" James shook her again, "For God's sake who, Wa-sa?" She struggled with him and he slapped her. The sound of his hand against her soft cheek made him feel sick. Her struggles stopped. Her eyes clouded as she glared past James to a place he couldn't go. "Wa-sa!" He ground through gritted teeth. "What's happening?" New Moon spoke as if in a trance, "She is calling to me, Panther. Her voice is so soft, she is weak." "Who, Wa-sa?" James spoke softly. "Sparrow."

James held her chin between his fingers and forced her to look at him. "Wa- sa, was DuPrey here?" New Moon shifted her gaze to his eyes. "Yes. The man is evil, Panther. He came here to do evil and he did it. Why did I not see it sooner? If only I had seen it, I could have stopped it." "Stop it Wa-sa! We do not have time for this now. You must tell me everything. Where did he go while he was in the village? When was the last time you saw Sparrow?" "She was helping me with the tanning and then DuPrey came over. We sat down beneath the old oak and he helped me shuck corn while we talked. I did not see Sparrow after that." James took hold of her hand and drew her into the village. "Did any one see Sparrow with DuPrey?" he asked. "No, I was the last one to see her." James heard the tremor in her voice and knew she was close to loosing control again. "Everyone is looking in the wrong place. Come with me, Wa-sa. We will find her." James hurried to the visitor's lodge. New Moon asked him no questions as she raced along beside him. Nothing looked out of place. There were no signs of struggle. James and New Moon stepped out of the lodge and made their way around to the back. There the signs jumped out at them even after almost four days. The loosened soil, broken twigs and a bloody hand print on the wall. It was easy to follow the trail through the broken cornstalks and then the bent cane against the wall leading to the stream was easy. James anguished as he moved swiftly. Why had this trail been over looked before? As James slid down the bank to the water he called out to New Moon, "Go back and get a rope and skins. I am going under the wall and pick up the trail on the other side." Turning he slipped into the water and disappeared. Holding his breath James swam down and under the barricade, and then surfaced on the other side. He saw the rail without difficulty. Moving close to the wall he looked up, it was easy to see how DuPrey had managed to creep several yards along the wall and then wait until the guard looked away to make a dash across the short distance to the rocky slop. No trail would show on the jagged rocks so James followed the most likely route upward. A faint noise reached his ears. It sounded like the mewling of a kitten. There...again. It was straight ahead. He pulled himself up to the edge and looked over. There on a narrow ledge about ten feet below him was Sparrow. She lay on her stomach; her arms stretched inward toward the mountain wall. He couldn't see her hands past the over hang.

"Sparrow, can you hear me, little one?" Sparrow weakly raised her head and then let it drop again. James took in a deep breath and let out a series of whoops to direct New Moon to his location. Pulling himself up onto the ledge he twisted around and slipped his feet over edge. "Stay very still, Sparrow. I'm coming down." Waiting only a few moments to offer up a quick prayer he turned loose and dropped down. His toes touched rock and then slipped over. He fell hard, gripping the rocky ledge. Sparrow turned her head and rested her other cheek against the cool stone. "Please, Panther," she whispered weakly, "don't fall." James wedged his toe into a tiny craves and hoisted himself up. "I'm not done for yet, little lass," he said with a smile. Sparrow gave a tiny grin. It didn't matter to her that he had spoken in English and she did not understand. He was here now and she was going to be taken home at last. James made a quick examination for broken bones and then gathered her into his arms. Her body was much too cold. He scooted back so he could prop his back against the stone. The low overhang offered only slight protection from the cold breeze of early evening. To one side there was a narrow stream of water trickled from between the stone. That source of water was what had probably kept her alive. He wrapped his arms tightly around her and tucked her head under his chin. Reaching for his grain pouch, which was tied about his waist, he withdrew a small amount of cornflower. "Here, little one. Take a little of this." Sparrow touched her tongue to the grain. "At least you follow direction better than your aunt," he teased her and then placed a kiss to the top of her head. Her hand went out for the grain pouch and James took her by the wrist and tucked her hand back between their bodies. You don't want to take too much at once, lass. Here, lets have a wee drink and then cuddle down tight to my chest. That's a good girl." "Panther?" "We're down here, Wa-sa. Sparrow is fine. It's getting too dark to take her out now." James called back. "Did you bring any hides?"

"Yes, I have them." "Good. Tie them to a rope and lower them over the side." Before long he saw the large bundle slowly dropping down. He shifted Sparrow in his lap and reached out for the furs. Quickly untying them he called to New Moon, "Did you save any for yourself, Wa-sa?" "Yes. Can we not bring her up now? I am strong enough to pull her up." "I know you are, Wa-sa, but there is not enough room up there for the three of us and it is too dark to travel down the mountain. Wrap yourself up and wait till sun up. I promise you Sparrow is fine." He heard no more from New Moon and set about wrapping himself and Sparrow in the skin she had sent down. Sparrow nuzzled beneath his chin. "Is New Moon afraid of the dark?" "I don't think so. Were you afraid out here all by yourself?" "I was very much afraid. I'm not afraid now." "Good." James stroked her head. "My mother sings to me at night. It, keeps the bad dreams away." "I do not know any of your songs, but I could sing a song that my mother used to sing to me. Would you like for me to sing it for you?" "Will it keep the bad dreams away?" "It always kept them away from me." In the clear cold darkness of the night New Moon could hear Panther's voice softly floating up from the ledge below. She let her gaze slip to the sky. The stars twinkled in their bed of black and her heart rested as her spirit floated, carried along by the sweet, tender voice of her beloved.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE New Moon cuddled beneath the heavy robes, her eyes closed in slumber. Heavy dark lashes fanned over chestnut colored cheeks, her hair spread about her like a drape of black velvet. Slowly she came awake, in small degrees of awareness. First she felt the stirring of the tiny life within her and slipped a hand to gently massage her growing belly. A contented smile spread across her lips as she breathed deeply of the scent of burning hickory.

She heard the soothing crackle of the fire that her warrior had built and knew that, even though it was still dark outside, the interior of their summer lodge would be alight in the soft illumination put out by the gentle dancing flames. Her eyes still closed; she contentedly stretched beneath the warm robe as her hand slid across the furs, drawn by the warmth where her warrior's body heat still lingered. She slowly opened her eyes as she squirmed her way over to lie where he had lain. Nuzzling her nose into the skins she breathed deeply of his scent. He was spoiling her by letting her sleep longer and longer into the morning. The eastern sky would soon begin to lighten; she would have to hurry to get to water before Grandmother Sun began her journey across the sky. Reluctantly she pushed herself up and tossed the heavy robes aside. She shivered as the cold air touched her warm skin. "Grandmother Sun will rise weather you are there to welcome her or not," Red Panther said from the doorway. New Moon's eyes rose up to meet his and a warm thrill raced through her body. Red Panther, her white warrior, stood in the doorway, the light of the fire casting him in flickering light and dancing shadows. Her warrior was even more magnificent than when he first arrived at their village. His body darker, his muscles more defined and his senses keenly attuned to nature. He had truly become a warrior and protector of the Principal People. The small fire reflected off the deep rich color of his auburn hair, which fell over each shoulder to rest upon the bulging strength of his chest. Her smile deepened and her heart warmed even more as her eyes, led by the dancing fire light, were drawn to travel over the body she now knew so well. "Yes," she finally responded. "But I have so mush to be thankful for." Her black eyes traveled upward again to meet and lock with his of blue which were now dark and smoldering with the need her appraisal had invoked. Her own eyes danced with mischief. "I must go and offer ...Oh..." her hand flew to her belly and Red Panther rushed to her side. He dropped to his knees and pushed her hand aside as he laid his cheek to her belly and chuckled with pleasure. He tilted his head so he could look up into her eyes, his cheek still firmly pressed to her belly, and "My little warrior is awake." He turned his face and placed a gentle kiss to the lopsided, shifting mound. "That kiss was for our little warrior," he said affectionately as he gently slipped her down beneath the furs and stretched out beside her. Pulling her up close against his warm chest he added huskily, "And this one is for his mother."

New Moon laughed at the teasing twinkle in his eyes as he offered up her lips to his. She would forever thrive in the sweet intimacy that they shared. It far surpassed even the strong physical passion that passed between them. As long as they had this, this special knowledge of one another, this longing and need to hold and be held. She knew the joys they were to share as well as the pain that lay ahead of them would only strengthen the bond that held them together. Red Panther brushed his lips softly across hers then drew back, but not before her tongue darted out to trace the curve of the lower side of his upper lip. A moan escaped from one or the other, or maybe both, as his mouth came down hard on hers. The kiss deepened and he turned her toward him, settling her more comfortable and exposing the hollow of her back and the tempting roundness of her bottom to his caressing hands. He ran his palm over the small of her back, over her hips and down along a shapely thigh. As he lowered his lips to a swelling breast he placed a hand to the back of her leg and pulled it up to hug his waist. New Moon wound her fingers in his hair and strained to push herself closer. She basked in his ability to set her soul afire. It seemed such a long time ago that it actually angered her that he could have such control over her body. Now she gloried in that ability of his, at times even begged for it, but now was not the time. She put her hands firmly to each of is cheeks and pulled him from her breast so she could look into his sheepishly grinning face. "You are keeping me from water," she said with more calm than she felt. "We must go to meet Grandmother Sun." Red Panther slapped her playfully on her backside bringing a startled yelp from her. "Then get your lazy backside up, squaw, and quite tempting me with all these ripe curves." New Moon pushed up to her knees and rubbed both hands along her belly that was just now beginning to show her condition, as she pouted coquettishly. "You make fun of me because I am fat," she said with mock timidity and peeked at him from beneath lowered lashes. He made himself more comfortable as he put both hands behind his head and let his eyes make a through inspection of her ripening body and heavy breast. "Aye, you are fat," he answered in a strangely husky voice. His hands shot out and took hold of her shoulders and pulled her toward him. With his lips close to hers he whispered, "Just don't ye be forgettin' it was me that put that small bairn in your belly." And then his lips found hers again, not in heated passion, but in sweet promise.

"Now you may go to water, but if you're not back before I am I'll come looking for you," he warned with a grin on his face. New Moon looked over her shoulder toward the doorway and realized the sky was already beginning to lighten. "Ohh...its late, let me go, Panther," she begged as she pulled against his hold. James turned her loose and watched her hurriedly slip into a heavy buffalo robe, which just happened to be his since it lay closest to her snatching fingers, and run from the lodge. Taking out just enough time to dump some oats and acorns into a bowl of water he too hurried from the lodge and then headed for the village gate. He did not want to welcome the sun this morning with the other warriors. He had much to be thankful for, but felt a need to be alone in his thanksgiving. His commission to the crown was ended. Now he wanted nothing more than to live in Chota Town with New Moon and their children. The occasional business trips required of him into Charles Town to meet with Galfin and then to the trading post were as much interaction with the whites as he cared for. Here he was no longer, James Fitz-Gerald, distinguished gentleman and wealthy merchant. Here he was Red Panther, Cherokee warrior, and that suited his temperament more favorably. Coming to the large boulders that sheltered the place where he and New Moon had shared their wedding day he slipped through. As he ran toward the water he tossed his scant clothing aside and dove in. The sun broke above the surface just as he emerged, his arms held high in greeting. New Moon watched her husband as she slipped further back to hide from his view. The rays of Grandmother Sun danced along the rippling surface of the water like a million sparkling stars and cast a bright glow that outlined the powerful body of her beloved as he stood, his head thrown back and his arms raised high to embrace the coming morning. Together they saluted Grandmother sun, New Moon standing a few feet behind Red Panther. Panther lowered his arms. "New Moon?" His voice was so soft that New Moon was not sure he'd called her name. "Haven't I told you never to come here alone?" "But I am not alone, husband. You are here." "You did not tell me you were coming here, Wa-sa." She unconsciously squared her shoulders, "You did not ask."

Panther turned and made his way toward her and her shoulders dropped a fraction. When he reached her he took her shoulders in his powerful hands and jerked her roughly up to his chest. "How did you know that I was here?" she asked as her warrior pride flared and her chin rose defiantly. "I always know when you are near." His fingers tightened in his anger. "No one would fault me for beating you," he growled and his blue eyes bore threateningly into hers. He could feel the soft flesh of her shoulders beneath the cruel grip of his fingertips, but she did not flinch. "You will not beat me." He almost grinned at her arrogance and his fingers relaxed their grip. Would he ever be able to control this woman that refused to acknowledge that she belonged to him? A devil-may-care grin touched his lips and traveled to his eyes. "Your wrong," he answered with a sneer as he swung her up into his arms and started toward the bank. New Moon wound her arms tightly around his neck as her tongue darted out to lick tiny beads of water that called to her from the point where his neck meet his shoulder. Panther's skin tingled from the touch of her warm tongue against his chilled skin. "You will not make me change my mind," he said, but she was not fooled. She was well aware of the power she had over him. She giggled and nipped his ear lobe as he walked from the water. He carried her to where she had discarded his robe beneath the large willow. "Oh...you..." she said playfully as she plummeted his strong chest with her tiny fist. "You saw my robe." "Correction, my dear. It's my robe." He spread it out with his foot and then lay her gently upon it. Stretching out beside her he propped himself on one elbow while he gently rubbed a wet strand of hair from her face. "Now, my little wa-sa. I am going to extract from you a promise that you will obey me in the future." New Moon studied his face. She saw only steely resolve. She could read nothing else from his features. "What is wrong, my husband?" she asked, the first stirring of dread fluttered uncontrollable along her skin. He hesitated for a moment then seemed to determine in his mind that he should tell her. "I dreamt last night that I could hear weeping." He gently rubbed the barely noticeable swell of her belly. "I tried to find where the crying was coming from and then I realized it was my own voice I was hearing. As my totem, the panther, I walked through the village. All around I saw empty

lodges with the bows and spears of the warriors that had lived there, broken and scattered about on the ground before dark doorways." The cry of a hawk broke into the stillness that settled about them and New Moon shivered. Panther lay down and tightly wrapped his arms around her. He felt the stirring of her baby...his baby. "I could hear the morning songs being sung by the old women," he finally continued just above a whisper. "I looked in every direction, but I could not find you," his voice cracked. New Moon blinked back a tear. She had had a similar dream. Great sorrow was soon to visit not only her village but also the whole nation. The Great Spirit had been kinder to her in her vision, and she knew that the time she and Red Panther were to share was not yet over, but only if they separated through the time of sorrow. Their spirits would struggle through this time of trial alone to reunite when each would need the other too much to continue on alone. New Moon shook herself. What was to happen could not be changed, and the present should not be wasted. She smiled as she twisted around and pushed him down to his back, "You worry too much, my husband." New Moon laid her cheek to his chest and with the tip of her finger she pushed a trail through an auburn forest in a round-about route over bulging pectoral muscles to a flat male nipple. There the mischievous finger teased the hardening nub until she could hear the rumbling of laughter deep in her warrior's chest. She turned here face to plant a kiss to the center of his chest and giggled when the curly hair tickled her nose. She covered his chest with several quick smacks before he plucked up her head and tilted her face so he could look into her eyes. "If I had known that my hairy chest would hold such a fascination for you I would never have resorted to plucking it bare." New Moon pulled both her knees up to each side of his waist and sat up on his hard, flat belly. "I was wrong to worry you, Panther," she said seriously. "You may beat me now if you like." Panther hardly heard what she said, his attention being totally absorbed by the moist heat of her body pressed so tightly to his belly. She bounced lightly. "Did you hear what I said?" Panther pulled his gaze upward, "Beat you?" he mumbled in confusion. As what she just said sunk slowly into his consciousness his brows knotted in startled disbelief.

New Moon giggled as she sprang up. "Did you think I would offer to let you beat me if I did not know I could outrun you?" Red Panther sprang to his feet and New Moon gave a squeak of delight as she turned and dashed away. Panther had her back in his arms before she had run two feet. She could see the heat in his eyes, feel the heat of his body against her own and it took her breath away. Her eyes were drawn to his lips. "You will never escape me, Wa-sa," he said as he slipped an arm beneath her knees and lifted her up. "Only because I do not want to escape you." She answered as she drew his lips down to her own. She traced her tongue along his lips and then slipped between them. She wanted to taste his mouth, to draw in his breath and return it to him mixed with her own. New Moon hardly noticed as he lowered her to the ground or that he was covering her body with his own, only that they shared their breath. She ran her hands down his back and pulled him tighter as she strained to push herself closer against him. Red Panther chuckled, "We'll stay here all morning if you like." He gently pushed a stray strand of hair from her face and then let his fingers linger in the soft silkiness. "I have no demands on my time more important than making love to you." New Moon ran her hands up and down along his back while she studied each feature of her beloved's face. Her eyes sought out the tiny scare on his cheek that could only be seen when she was so close. She let her vision travel along the tiny creases at the corner of his eyes that deepened when he smiled. Her gaze then traveled to and lingered on the curve of his full, firm lips, and then finally rose again to look into the azure depths that made her heart flutter and her insides tighten. Panther slide his lips across hers and whispered even while he kissed her, "I love you, my little wa-sa. I'll love you forever ...straight through this life and into the next. Igo hi dv!" With his hands he worshipped her. Gently, tenderly, caressingly he pressed her to him as if he needed to feel every inch of her against every inch of him. James raised slightly so he could look into her face. "Tell me what you want, Little Wa-sa. Let me hear the words." New Moon did not smile. Her face held an almost desperate plea as she clung to him. "I want to feel you," she answered. "I want to feel you above me, below me and all around me. I want to feel you in me, in my heart and in my soul. I want to feel the heat of your love surrounding me even when we are apart."

"We will never be apart, my little wa-sa," he said as his lips came crushing down on hers. For a little while she was able to forget her dream vision of loneliness and separation and pain. Such pain.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX The day was dawning bright and clear. A gentle breeze ruffled the leaves and slid along warm, still sensitive skin, causing a sudden chill to pass through New Moon to be repeated in an answering quiver deep within James. For all her trying to hide it, he knew by the desperation in her lovemaking that she was as deeply troubled as he. Her dreams had also been as frightening. More than once he'd awakened to secretly watch her as she sat and stared into the dying embers of their fire, tears glistening on her cheeks. He gently placed his lips to her forehead. "It is time to go back, Wa-sa." "I know." They both rose from the robe. Panther bent down to pick it up and wrapped it snugly around New Moon's shoulders. Her eyes came up to meet his and another episode of quaking dread exploded in the pit of his stomach. When the sounds of panicked shouts reached their ears neither flinched or broke their hold on one another. Each wanted to hold onto this moment as long as they could, knowing that once they left this, their special place, their lives would be forever changed. New Moon was first to take her eyes from the face of her beloved as she turned her head and looked back over her shoulder. "Must you go back?" she asked softly. When she turned back to look into his face she saw the muscles working in his jaw. He let his hands drop from her shoulders and stepped around her. New Moon watched him go and after a short while she followed. As she stepped around the boulder she heard Panther's voice raised in anger and desperation. "Why didn't you catch him?" Panther turned to look at her and her heart pained with the knowledge that it was starting. "A runner has just entered the village." The fear and anger she saw in his eyes pierced her heart. "He comes to warn of illness." Smythe tried unsuccessfully to control his mount's prancing as he pleaded, "He didn't understand, colonel. None of these people understand about such things."

"Of course he didn't. Don't you think I know that?" Panther bellowed, causing Smythe's horse to shy nervously. "These people have no idea what they are about to face." Panther grabbed the horse's rains with one hand and a fist full of buckskin in the other as he gripped Smythe's leg. "Couldn't you have stopped one small boy? It would have been better if you had shot him!" At the sound of New Moon's startled gasp, Panther turned toward her and she took a small step back before she caught herself. Only when her warrior had fought another for her life had she seen such rage on his face. She squared her shoulders and walked toward him. His features softened only enough for her to see and to know that his rage was not at her for her show of weakness, but at this strange illness that caused such fear in his heart. "You must go with Smythe, away from the villages. He will take you to the home he shares with Gentle Rain. You will be safe there." New Moon stopped. She stiffened her back but she was unable to hold back the one silent tear that slide over her brown cheek to cascade down her face. "For the baby, New Moon, you must do as I say." Panther's voice was firm and the look on his face told her he would not accept disobedience from her. For long moments she stood and silently listened to her inner self, felt the stirring of her child and knew that Red Panther was right. He no longer needed to be taught the ways of the Principal People. He knew them as well as she, but now there was a new enemy in their village, one that the ways of the Principal People would be useless against. It was time for the Principal People to learn from a white man. With a heavy heart she nodded. Panther turned and headed toward the village. He hurried through the gate in desperate need to stop the boy before too many of the villagers came in contact with him, but he was too late. The villagers crowed so tightly around the young runner to hear of the strange illness that James had to push his way toward its center. James's voice boomed into the tightening crowd, "There must be no runners sent from Chota Town." A low rumbling erupted from the crowd as they parted to let him pass.

Silent Deer, who had become his blood brother only a few days before, wedged his powerful body through the press of bronzed bodies, each one quickly stepping aside to let him pass. He stopped directly in front of James. "A runner will be sent to the next village. I will not have members of my family die while I sit and hide in fear of a white man's illness." Deer's eyes fixed on a point somewhere above James's left shoulder. He had spoken, he would say no more. He was a warrior and would fight to the death, if need be his own brother, to save even one life of the Principal People. James in turn stared over Deer's shoulder. Silently he cursed the custom that told a warrior not to look into the eyes of his opponent. It was not his brother's weakness or his fears that James wanted to see in Deer's eyes, but rather he wanted his brother to see the fear in his own eyes, and the love. James forced his arms to hang relaxed yet ready at his sides. His fingers curled tightly into his hands as if he held the weapons he'd so foolishly left within his lodge. But no matter, if a fight became immanent a weapon would be hastily shoved into his hand. Silent Deer stepped closer. His resolve no less than his brother's. He placed a hand to the knife at his side and as James had thought it would be, a knife was placed in his. The warriors faced each other. Each tall, each heavily muscled and each equally respected as a beloved warrior. Azure eyes with the brilliance to match the morning sky traveled insolently over the body of the warrior that faced him and then looked again over his shoulder. The challenge had been made. Deer's own coal black eyes traveled over the bronzed chest of his beloved brother before settling on a point above James's shoulder. Neither warrior would give in to anything short of death. Dancing Cloud watched his two best warriors squaring off for battle and stepped between them. "It makes my heart sad to see two brothers preparing to make war on one another. It is foolish for brothers to fight when the enemy is within our walls." Dancing Cloud turned to Red Panther and looked into his eyes but for a second before turning and looking into Deer's. "I will hear what each of you have to say. I will hear Panther first." James's stance did not relax. "The illness that the runner has come to warn against is a white man's disease. It is called small pox and it is like none the Principal People have seen before." The crowd shuffled nervously. "The illness brings with it high fevers and a sickness of the skin. It carries with it pain and death. Any who do battle with the illness and survives will be marked for all to see throughout his days.

And now this disease has been brought into our village. If any runner leaves and goes to another village they will also carry it with them." Silent Deer gritted his teeth. "If this illness is as you say then we must warn others of The People. The medicine men must take out their rattles and their magic things and chant their prayers to keep the people well." James turned to glance into Dancing Cloud's eyes. He quickly looked away knowing that the others would see his forwardness as an insult, but he hoped his old friend would see his fear for the Cherokee Nation. "Each person affected by this disease must find the strength within himself to overcome it. If he does not find the strength he will die, and all his belongings must be burned because the spirit that causes the illness will live on his blankets in waiting for another to touch them. Only a person that has suffered the illness and lived will be able to care for the sick and not become ill as well. "I am such a one. The only scares that I have is the one on my face," he raised a finger to the small circular scar at the side of his face. "And the one on my arm," he showed a much larger scare on his forearm. "I am fortunate this is all the illness did to my body. I have seen others whose faces were covered with such marks. I will care for The People of Chota Town. I will fight the illness, but for the sake of the other towns, no one from here must enter through their gates. We must defeat the spirit of small pox here, within these walls." "I hear what my brother says with my heart," Deer beat a fist against his chest. "But the towns must be warned. Our medicine men must be ready to fight this evil spirit. And they must know to shut their gates. How will they know if we do not send a runner?" Dancing Cloud turned toward the crowd, "My ears tell me that each warrior speaks from his heart and wants only what is best for The People. A runner must be sent to warn the other villages against visitors and alert the medicine men to begin their prayers." James stood perfectly still as a young boy of about thirteen summers stepped forward. He recognized him as Runs Far, a young boy who had proven to be their fastest runner and was showing promise of some day being a great warrior. Dancing Cloud laid a hand to Runs Far's thin shoulder. "You must go to Telleco, but you must not enter through the gate. Call out to the Wolf on the gate and tell him they must not allow visitors and that their medicine men must began their prayers. Then return here." At that moment the runner to their village, which had been all but forgotten, collapsed and James's last thread of hope that the village had not been infected broke.

He turned again to the chief, "You are right. The People do need to be warned. We now know that the illness is among our village, but Runs Far may not be affected. If he return to us he must camp outside our walls until it is again safe for him to enter." James glanced down at the boy and saw anger and embarrassment etched into his young features. Even at his age the boy was showing a warrior's pride. Loudly he added, "We will need someone that is brave and unafraid to guard our outer walls and do battle with any of our enemies from without while we fight the enemy from within." The boy stiffened his spine and smiled smugly. His honor had been restored. Dancing Cloud nodded in approval. Panther had learned well the gentle speech. Silent Deer's eyes were drawn to the panting boy who, without meaning to, had brought the evil spirit of death into their village. He nodded his agreement. Dancing Cloud raised his long spear high above his head and announced to the village, "Runs Far will now leave on his finale test of manhood." He turned to Runs Far. "You leave us as a boy. You will return to us a warrior!" All the warriors raised their arms and sounded the cry that befitted a young man embarking on a trial that could end his young life or mold him into a warrior and protector of his people. Runs Far ran from the crowd and quickly gathered the few items allowed on a journey of manhood. As he proudly ran through the gate the loud cheering of the warriors followed him to give him honor and encouragement. Once the boy was out of sight of the village the whoops silenced and all turned back to their chief. Dancing Cloud watched the young boy as he sat cross-legged and shivering on the ground and knew that this illness was indeed powerful. James spoke up, "Let me take the boy to my medicine hut at the back of the village." Dancing Cloud looked at the boy through misty eyes, "You may take the boy, Red Panther, but our medicine men will come to pray over him." Panther stooped down and scooped the boy up into his arms. The heat of the boy's fever burned into his chest and his heart contracted as he looked into eyes that shown bright with the fever. *** As the weeks passed the entire village lay in the cruel grasp of the illness. Young and old alike died faster than the death ceremonies could be performed. The low, sad mourning songs of death and lost loved ones were sung without ceasing.

The medicine men tried all the cures and chanted all their prayers, but still The People died. Some of the medicine men burned their holy instruments thinking they were contaminated with evil. The whole village held the stench of illness and death, and the black curling smoke from the charred homes and cherished belongings of the ones that traveled the hanging road to the village of their ancestors. Surly the spirit of death held the village in its grip. The ones that managed to survive the onslaught emerged scared. Many not only on their bodies, but in their minds as well. James wept as he remained at the side of his blood brother through the days of high fever and the nights of anguished struggles with demons that only Deer could see. Finally Deer's heart became weary and his struggles became prayers for the spirits to take his life and leave him in peace. When this did not happen, he swore to end it himself. In a desperate attempt to save his friend from himself James ordered all sharp objects removed from his lodge and placed a guard to watch him when he had to be away. Silent Deer looked down at his arms and snarled at the sight of the scars on his body. Panther had talked for hours in his attempt to ease Deer's heart about the scars. Were not scars on a warrior's body beautiful to behold? Proof of his strength and cunning? Deer had fought the evil of the white man's disease and had lived. Were not the scars proof of his strength? But the scars ran deep within Deer. They touched his soul and lay heavy in his heart. To him they were not beautiful. They were a warning. The People were allowing too many of the white man's ways into their lives. Only Panther had ever urged them to keep sacred their ways. All other white men tried to tell them that their ways were not correct, that they were uncivilized and unclean in the eyes of the Great Spirit. How could their ways not be correct? The Principal People were one with their brothers and sisters of nature. They cared for one another; sustained one another. They listened to the spirits of the air and followed their dreams. The People had been happy in their existence as had been their fathers and there fathers before them. The white man spoke only lies and Deer knew within his heart that this was only one of many evils to come to them from the white man. There would be more to follow. The scars on his body were not a declaration of a battle fought and won, but of a battle lost and prisoners marked. Deer knew he did not have the strength in his heart to go on.

He raised a trembling hand to his deformed face, a face that had once been more beautiful than any other. A face that held eyes that were as sharp as an eagles, a nose that was broad and proud, lips that were well defined, full and ever truthful in the words that they spoke. He felt the moisture on his cheeks as his fingertips roamed over the dips and hollows of his once smooth skin. No longer would he be able to stand proud among his people. The scares would cause them to turn their faces at the sight of him. The children would run in fear of the one they used to pretend to be in their games of war. No longer would he be Silent Deer, most beloved and beautiful warrior. He had been made ugly and unclean by the white man's filthy disease. His eyes searched the dark interior of the lodge. He stepped over the prone body of the one sent to guard him from himself. Yellow Blanket would wake up soon; he had to finish this now. His numbed fingers slid around a vertical pole in the wall to wrap around another pole he had long ago hidden there. It was his remembrance stick. He ran his hands along the carving on the hard wood. His first hunt was there, his rights to manhood, the first time he'd seen Morning Star. He would have offered a bride price for her this spring. A smile curved his swollen lips. Maybe he would have kidnapped her the way Panther had taken New Moon. Morning Star had such a sweet heart; she would have liked that. He drew in a ragged breath. He did not know if Star had survived the evil that the white man caused to befall them. And if she did live, would she turn from him because of his disfigurement or because of her own? Deer wedged one end of the long remembrance stick into the ground and tilted the pointed end until it touched him at the base of his chest where his ribs came together. A tear slid down his face as his hand stroked one last time along a stick of remembrance that held all the dreams and hopes of one young warrior, for himself and for his people.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN James rode slowly up the bend that led to Beau and Rain's home. It was Indian summer and the bite of frost hung in the morning air. He shivered. It was the emptiness in his heart that made him feel cold. He should have been able to enjoy the crisp air, the sounds of raccoon chatter before they settled down for the day, the sounds of birds chirping as they greet the sun. None of these things held pleasure for him today. He saw smoke curling above the treetops. Rain and New Moon were preparing breakfast. New Moon would be as glad to see him as he would her. He needed her. He needed her to heal his wounds and comfort his soul.

He wondered about the baby that would have been born by now, and smiled. His baby would help his heart to heal. He nudged Eagle to a faster pace. This journey had taken too long. Beau waited a few feet from the house. Panther pulled in on the reins and looked down at him. The look on Beau's face told him he would not like what he was about to hear. "Where is New Moon?" "She's inside. I didn't want to be the one to tell you this colonel..." James drew in a deep breath as he tilted his head back and looked up at the slowly drifting clouds. "It's the baby, isn't it, Beau?" "The child lived for ten days. She was just too small and weak to survive. It's best this way." Hot tears rolled uncontrolled down James's cheeks as he thought of New Moon. She had suffered so much, lost so much. He should have been here with her. Swinging one leg over his mount's neck and slid down to the ground. "Take me to the grave." James dropped the reins and followed Beau from the clearing and a little way into the forest where a small pile of rocks marked the tiny grave. A vision of Akachee's hands, fingers sawed off in sorrow, came to James. "You didn't let her...I mean she didn't...hurt herself?" "No. She didn't. But she's taking it pretty hard." In silence the two looked down at the small pile of rocks. James knelt down and placed a hand to one of the smooth stones. His tiny daughter lay beneath the hard, cold stone. "It's all just so unfair," Beau mumbled mostly to himself. James rose up and let his eyes skim over the horizon. "Whoever told you life was fair? It's only life and death. Anything in between is just what you make of it." James turned and walked from the grave. He would bring New Moon back next spring to retrieve the bones of their daughter, if that was what she wanted. He and Beau walked to the small cabin. His soft moccasins made no sound as he stepped onto the porch. It seemed appropriate. The only sounds of mourning for his daughter were the sad chirping of a cricket, and the haunting cry of a far away whippoorwill. New Moon saw Panther's shadow and felt his presence behind her. Would he hate her because of their daughter's death? Would he blame her strong spirit? She placed the wooden bowls she had just washed on the shelf in front of her and turned to face her husband. Panther stood so stiff, so far removed.

Her heart lurched and she almost lost her composure. So badly she wanted him to hold out his arms to her. She did not feel like a warrior now. She only wanted to be Panther's woman. She wanted to fly into his arms and for him to hold her tightly against his chest and ease all the pain, but he didn't offer her the comfort of his arms. New Moon wrapped her own arms around herself and raised her chin the way she always did when she felt threatened. James let his eyes drink her in. She was thin, too thin. Her black eyes looked too large for her face. James saw the slight tremble of her lip and wanted to rush to her, to take her in his arms and make all her hurt go away. But he couldn't make her hurt go away any more than he could make his own feelings disappear. He saw the tilt of her chin and his gut tightened with sorrow. She blamed him for making her leave her home. He could see it in her eyes, in the way she refused to come to him. Gentle Rain looked from one to the other. "New Moon is ready to go," she offered into the uncomfortable space. "You have honored us by allowing New Moon to stay in your lodge," James answered, his voice sounding hollow to his own ears, but he meant what he said. Gentle Rain lowered her lashes in acceptance of the compliment. "Come New Moon," he continued, "We have far to go before sunset." New Moon picked up the heavy buffalo robe, the only thing, other than her baby, that she had brought with her. As she followed Panther from the cabin her gaze drifted toward the woods where her tiny daughter's body lay in the cold soil. Old Woman's words drifted through her mind. "They will take much that is dear to us away." New Moon knew that her child was not really there beneath the earth, not her spirit, not the part of her that her mother would always carry in her heart. She would draw as much comfort from that thought as she could. Panther's eyes met hers for a brief moment before he picked her up and sat her onto Eagle's back. Then he swung up behind her and turned Eagle away from the cabin. New Moon sat straight and stiff until James wrapped his arm around her and pulled her back to rest against his chest. He pulled the robe around them both. She could feel the heat of his body seep through the doeskin she wore and she wanted to turn and wrap her arms about him. She wanted to tell him she was sorry that she had been unable to keep their tiny daughter alive long enough for him to see her. But she could feel his withdrawal from her. If he would but listen to her she would tell him about the soft black hair that curled about her face and about the tiny full lips that would never suckle

at her breast. She bit into her lip as she fought the sobs that wanted so desperately to break free from her heart. She didn't know what she could or should do. The pain at loosing her daughter was great, but even greater was the pain she felt by Panther's rejection. She dreaded returning to Chota Town. She knew there would only be more sorrow there, but she would be home with her people. She could not understand a white man's withdrawal from pain, and so could not understand why her warrior could not share his pain with her and allow her to share her pain with him. The only thing, she decided, was to wait. Let him mourn in the way of the white man. Then, maybe, he would turn again to her. It took many days to reach Chota Town, but finally they were there. Eagle plodded slowly through the gate. New Moon tried not to look at the charred ruins of the lodges of her friends. The villagers, realizing that she returned without her child, lowered their heads in understanding as they passed. She felt their pain and they felt hers. For the first time since the death of her child she felt comforted. Eagle stopped in front of their lodge and James slid to the ground. He reached up and helped New Moon down. The silence was slowly killing him. He could no longer take the pain of her silent condemnation. He led Eagle into the small corral as New Moon entered the lodge. James gripped the wooden gate until his knuckles turned white and began to ache. He could wait no longer for her to come to him. He turned and walked to the lodge. As he entered New Moon looked up. The anguish she felt showed on her face and he knew it reflected his own pain. "New Moon." "Yes, husband." James ran a trembling hand through his hair. He was so very tired. "I am sorry about the baby. Please don't blame me for sending you away. I could not have survived losing you to the smallpox." New Moon looked deep into his eyes as she stepped closer. Her own eyes suddenly spilling the tears she had been holding back. "I do not blame you, my beloved," she sobbed and James gathered her into his arms. "Do not blame yourself," she whispered. "I had to do what was best for our child. It was best that I leave Chota. I would not have left for any other reason." "Do you hate me for not coming with you?" His hands caressed her back.

"I could never hate you, Panther," his name came out in a soft sigh to be answered by his own deep moan close to her ear. "I will never send you from me again." He buried his face at the base of her neck as his chest heaved painfully. New Moon slid her fingers through his hair and pulled his mouth to hers. His lips were warm and firm, his breath intoxication as he breathed life back into her broken heart. James was first to break the kiss. "I thought you blamed me. You can't imagine the pain I felt." "Yes, I can. I felt it too. Our daughter was not happy to be here, but she is happy now. I thought your pain was so great that you needed time to forgive me. That is why I held back from you. I wanted to give your heart time to heal." James rubbed his hands up and down her back, "You are my heart, remember? We will have another daughter, and a son, as many as you want. But never stand back from me, Little Wa-sa. Never hold yourself from me again. If you don't know what I'm thinking, ask me. If you don't know how I'm feeling, ask me. I never want to feel this pain again." "I promise." His lips claimed hers with a passion too long withheld. He ravished her mouth while he slid her dress up with trembling hands, and broke the kiss only long enough to slip it over her head and tossed it aside. She placed her hands on his chest and kneaded the strong muscles beneath her fingers. His heart drummed savagely beneath her touch. James pulled her hands down his body to his loincloth, which she jerked roughly in her haste to remove it. He tightened unbearably. She gasped, then moaned and closed her eyes as her fingers found and curled around his throbbing shaft. His stomach tightened painfully, but he fought to hold himself in check. With sheer power of will he eased himself from her grip. "Let me taste you, Wa-sa," he whispered hoarsely and she thought she would melt from the sound of his voice. He put his hands beneath her arms and supported her as he trailed hungry kisses along her neck and down to one breast. His mouth closed over the tender nub and she arched toward him as she dug her nails into his shoulders. Her heart pounded and her body burned for him. She was home again. She was with her warrior. He straightened and she melted into his chest as she wrapped her arms about his neck, thinking her legs could not hold her another moment. His hands slipped over her bottom to the back of her thighs and he lifted her as he pulled her legs around his waist. She reached her hand between them and guided him into her.

Gripping her by one arm about the waist he dug the fingers of his other hand into the soft flesh of her bottom and pressed as deep as he could inside her. He could not breathe, could not think, could do nothing but feel. He withdrew slightly and then pulled her roughly against him as he shoved his hips forward and a cry escaped her. "You belong to me, New Moon." He brought her down hard again. "Say it, New Moon. You belong to me. Say It!" "I love you, my warrior." He slammed into her again as he held her so tightly she could hardly breath. His words were a demand and they were a plea. "You will never withdraw from me again?" New Moon could hardly draw breath to answer him. "I will never withdraw from you again." He sank to his knees and drove into her once more before lowering her to the ground. She clung to him as he drove into her over and over, pushing them both into a frenzy of passion that drowned out the pain and renewed their souls. She called out his name over and over until, finally, they both lay exhausted in each other's arms, her legs still tightly gripping his waist. She had not said the words he desperately needed to hear her say. She held nothing back in her lovemaking. She held nothing back from him at all, except that one tiny part of herself that, without which, he truly had nothing. He tightened his hold on her and she sighed contentedly. "Do you want to move to our sleeping furs?" James asked as he nuzzled her ear. New Moon smiled, "No. I'm quite comfortable here." "We are laying in the dirt, Little Wa-sa." "I know. This is where you dropped me." "I did not drop you." "Yes you did. Panther?" "Yes, Wa-sa." "Drop me again."

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

The bright spring sun warmed the small cove that was no longer New Moon's private place but rather New Moon's and Panther's private place. The air filed with the sounds of laughter and splashing water as Panther played with Sparrow and Buffalo. New Moon removed a dear hide from the top of her basket and took out four tin bowls. She held one up and admired how the sun light reflected from its shiny surface. Panther had brought them to her from the post. He had brought many things to her. Pots and pans of every size. Plates, cups, knives, forks, and spoons now occupied one whole wall of their lodge where he built shelves and pegs for her treasures. She remembered all the things Gentle Rain had been given by Bow. She had been jealous of all the things she had, but not any more. Now all the other women in Chota were jealous of her. New Moon heard Sparrow cry out in frustration and she looked up. Buffalo was splashing Sparrow without mercy. "Panther, don't let Buffalo pick on Sparrow. He should be learning the ways of a warrior." All eyes turned her way and three faces broke into grins simultaneously. New Moon slowly lowered the bowls and then gave a startled squeal as Panther bounded from the water. Sparrow cheered for New Moon and Buffalo raised his voice for Panther who gave chase as New Moon ran with surprising agility. She darted, ducked, and changed direction with expert precision. "Nobody can catch New Moon," Sparrow said smugly as she cocked her head in Buffalo's direction. "You are wrong, look!" New Moon screamed out as her foot slipped on wet grass and she dropped heavily. James, unable to slow himself in time tumbled on top of her. Wrapping his arms around her he started them rolling one over the other down the bank toward the water. "Stop it, Panther," New Moon slapped weakly at his chest. Panther pulled a long face, "You tried to get away from me, Wa-sa," he quipped pitifully and New Moon giggled. "You only caught me because I slipped." "Oh, is that so? I let you stay ahead of me." He dug his fingers into her ribs and tickled her. New Moon kicked and bucked and laughed until she had no strength to fight any longer.

"Do you give up, Little Wa-sa?" His fingers gave two quick digs and then stopped. "Yes, yes, I give up. You are the mighty warrior, Panther, wise in all things, quick and sure with your aim and fearless in battle." Panther grinned, "Ah, your words make my heart sing, Little Wa-sa." "And merciless in your treatment of your wife." New Moon shoved at his shoulders and tried to squirm away. James took hold of her wrists and pinned them to ether side of her head as he slide himself to cover her body. "Keep this teasing up, woman, and I will be forced to beat you." "Panther?" They both looked toward Sparrow. They had completely forgotten about the two youngsters. "Yes, Sparrow." Panther said with a groan, and New Moon giggled. "You would not really beat New Moon would you?" He was surprised to see the concern in her eyes. "Of course not, Sparrow." He reluctantly crawled off New Moon and sat beside her. "Surely you know me better than that." New Moon scrambled to her feet and Sparrow grinned. "Of course I do." James realized the trickery too late as New Moon took Sparrow by the hand and they ran into the water. He sat and watched the two splash and play. "They tricked you. You should beat them both." Buffalo complained as he shook the water from his arms. Buffalo had grown a great deal in the last year. His young body was thin but well built. And though he strutted and posed, his heart was good. James couldn't have been more proud of his development if he had truly been his own son. James looked longingly at the still filled basket. "Come. Let's set out the food. I'm starving." Now Buffalo was truly shocked. "First you let women trick you, then you do their work for them? I cannot believe this is coming from the great Red Panther." "Oh, yes, you can. Race you to the basket!" James jumped up and sprinted off, Buffalo close on his heals.

New Moon and Sparrow stopped their play when they heard Panther call to them. Sparrow sighed heavily, "Do you think I will find a warrior like Panther?" New Moon shrugged, "I know you will find a warrior that you will love very much. Is it good to only look for a warrior like Panther?" Sparrow turned a thoughtful look to the aunt. "If you saw a warrior and fell in love with him, but he could not love you because you were not just like his mother or his aunt, how would you feel? Would it make you any less because you are not like someone else?" The cloud lifted from Sparrow's face. "I understand, Aunt, but I will still look for a warrior like Panther." "Ladies, please, come out of the water." Panther put a hand over his heart, "These two warriors are perishing for lack of food." A few hours later, the meal finished and the basket loaded with dirty dishes, the four prepared to return to the village. "I will carry the blanket, Buffalo, you carry the basket." James held the basket out toward Buffalo who backed up a step. "We are going to the village, Panther. Doing woman's work here where no one sees is one thing. I cannot carry for them," he jerked his head in New Moon's and Sparrow's direction, "where others will see and make fun of me." "He is right," New Moon spoke up in Buffalo's defense." "He will face the test of manhood soon. It is important that he not look weak to the council." She reached out and took hold of the basket handle but James didn't turn loose. "Here, you take the blanket, it is not as heavy. I will carry the basket. Unlike some young braves, I am not afraid of those that would be foolish enough to call me weak." The three walked past Buffalo who hung his head and followed several paces behind. As James and New Moon walked through the gate they were met by Dancing Cloud. "Panther, you must come to my lodge. You have a visitor." New Moon gave him a troubled glance before she walked on with Sparrow and Buffalo. ** * James bent low and stepped into the dark interior.

"I am glad that you have finally returned from your outing Col. Fitz-Gerald." Captain. Inghram didn't bother to rise. "The good chief here would not tell me where I could find you." James raised a brow before turning to Dancing Cloud and offering him a nod of gratitude. "I thank you, Dancing Cloud. I would truly have hated to be interrupted." He turned back to the Captain. "Tell me, what brings you to Chota. Oh, and by the way, since you seem to have forgotten, I am no longer a Colonel in the King's service." Captain Inghram was flustered and showed it. "I am here on business for the Governor of South Carolina. He requests your immediate reply." He held up a brown satchel. James walked casually to a cane backrest opposite the Captain and lowered himself to sit crosslegged. Cloud sat down beside him. "Like I told you, Captain, I am no longer in the service. Why would the Governor be sending me messages and why would he expect an immediate reply?" "If you will just take this and read it, I'm sure you will understand, Col. Fitz- Gerald." James raised a menacing brow. He took the pouch and removed the papers from inside and read carefully. "It appears that the Governor wants me to lead a band of Choctaw on a raid against the French. The last I heard, Captain the Choctaw nation was divided on this issue." "They still are, but more and more of the towns are siding against the French. With our help, they will be able to break that influence. England has need of easy relations with the Choctaw in that area of the continent." James stuffed the papers back into the bag and tossed it back to the Captain. "Tell Governor Glen that I will go and talk to Chief Red Shoes. If he needs or wants my help I'll give it, but it will not be as a Englishman in an Englishman's army." James rose easily to his feet and left the lodge. New Moon would be upset. She wouldn't want him to go. As he approached the lodge he spotted her working in the garden and memories of the first time he saw her there flooded his mind. She was thinner than she used to be, but not unpleasantly so. She had been through a lot since his arrival into her world. She looked up and smiled and his body reacted the same way it always did when she looked at him that way. He indicated their lodge with a tilt of his head and her grin broadened. She rose to her feet and followed him home. When New Moon stepped through the doorway her gaze landed on Panther. He stood in the center of the lodge, his clothes off and his desire for her proudly pointing in her direction.

She reached back and pulled the tanned hide flap over the doorway. "What must everyone think to always see our doorway covered?" James grinned, "They think that we are very unfriendly and never want guests." New Moon lowered her hands to the hem of her dress and watched Panther's gaze drop expectantly. Slowly she pulled her dress up and over her head. With a sensuous motion she lowered her arms and let the dress drop to the floor. She watched as Panther's gaze traveled the length of her, lingering on the places he liked best. She ran her fingers through her hair and let it fall in a cascade of ebony about her shoulders. Her breasts peaked out from beneath the strands that fell past her waist. "You take too long to come to me, Wa-sa." James ground out in a half moan. She came to him then and he wrapped his arms tight about her. "I need you," he rasped harshly. Bending down, he slipped an arm beneath her legs and lifted her into his arms. He carried her to the sleeping furs and laid her down. Kneeling beside her he ran a finger along the curve of her lips and then let it trail down her neck. With tender care he brought his hand down to her breast and teased the nub until it stood hard and tender. New Moon arched her back and moaned. His control was slipping. He wanted to go slow, to make every stroke last forever. He stretched out beside her and placed his mouth over her taut breast and sucked gently. Her gasp of pleasure caused his own body to flame in response. Her fingers slid through his hair and grasped his scalp. He was nearly blinded by his need. Inch by delicious inch he drew his trembling hand down along her soft belly and along one thigh. At her knee he pushed gently and her legs parted for him. He drew his hand upward toward the moistness he sought and her breathing grew rapid. "Panther, please." He heard her plea and his control snapped. He slipped his body over hers; the caress of her skin against his drove him wild. He settled between her legs. With barely controlled urgency he slipped his hand beneath her hip and raised her up to receive him. His lips plundered hers while his fingers dug into her soft buttocks. He entered savagely and her response was just as savage. He drove himself into her again and again while his mouth hungrily claimed hers.

An explosion hit his entrails and he stiffened as burst after burst of pleasure shattered around him and through him. As she clung to him and rode the wave of their passion he knew it would always be like this for them. James rolled over on his back, bringing her with him till she lay on top of him. She rested her cheek to his chest and closed her eyes. Slowly their breathing returned to normal. New Moon hated to break the silence, but she knew she must. "There is something you need to tell me?" Panther stroked her hair and down her back. "I need to go see Red Shoes." "The Choctaw War Chief?" "Yes. Governor Glen wants to enlist me. He wants me to supply the show of English support for the Choctaw to break ties with the French." New Moon nuzzled his chest. She could feel his heart beating beneath her cheek. "Are you going to do this thing?" "Red Shoes is my friend. I must go to him and find out for myself what this is all about, but no, I will not re-enlist. If I choose to stay it will be for my friend Red Shoes. I will take a stance of advisor only for the English." New Moon felt the feathery flutter of her unborn baby. She had not told Panther. Now she could not. "Will you be gone long?" "Only as long as I have to be. I will come back to you, Wa-sa," he promised. New Moon raised her head and looked into his eyes. "I know you will. And if you do not come back soon enough," she grinned, "I will come after you." James laughed, "Now that I do not put past you, little darlin'." She slid up his body and traced her tongue along his lips. His body jumped to life. His mouth once more consumed hers. He placed his hands on her hips and pushed her up and then down as he thrust up into her. The impact took her breath. She put her hands on the sides of his head and held tightly to his hair as he bucked beneath her. His lovemaking was fierce and it was gentle. She felt his desperation in every thrust, his fear of what might be, and she joined him in his frenzy. His breath whooshed out on a moan. "You are a part of me, Wa-sa. There is nothing that can keep me from you."

His half-whispered, half-moaned words melted her insides. She pressed her hands to his chest and pushed herself up as she matched his every stroke. He gripped her hips with his strong hands and drove himself up into her with such force that she screamed out and then she was lost in the explosion that robbed her of all thought except the whirlwind of sensation that engulfed them.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE New Moon scrambled to her feet at the sound of Hunting Bow's voice. He asked permission to enter. "Yes, you are welcome," she called out as she rushed forward. He stepped through the doorway and she threw her arms about his neck. He squeezed her hard and then let her go as the baby within her thumped in protest. Holding her at arm's length he looked down at the round belly straining against her buckskin dress. "That was a warrior's punch if ever I felt one." New Moon laughed and placed a hand to her belly, "This baby is big and strong." Her smile slipped, "I try not to worry where her father is." Wanting to see her smile again, if even for a short while, he gave her a look of pure skepticism, "Oh, a girl is it? How can you be so sure?" She took him by the hand and led him toward Panther's chair. "I have my ways. Come now and sit on Panther's chair. You must tell me why you are here." A thought struck her and she looked anxiously into his eyes. "Rain? Is Rain well and the children?" Beau hastened to reassure her, "Rain and the children are fine. Here, let's sit down." He had to grin as he sat down on the home made chair. He noticed that New Moon and Akachee appeared to be quite happy to use the traditional furnishings even though James had made enough chairs to accommodate several guests. New Moon noticed Akachee scowling at Bow. "What is the matter, Akachee?" She reached for the moccasin she was decorating for Panther. Akachee sniffed, "Panther will not like the way you ran into this man's arms." New Moon bowed her head to hide her smile while Beau shifted uncomfortably. "Akachee," New Moon looked at her from beneath lowered lashes. "Will you stay with us during this meeting?" Akachee visibly flinched. She would now have to stay because New Moon asked her to. How could she speculate on what the two were doing if she were right there?

"Good," New Moon cooed and turned back to Hunting Bow. She wasn't angry with Akachee; the two of them had reached an understanding and were actually getting along well. Akachee just loved to gossip. "Why are you here, Bow?" she asked. Beau wrapped his long fingers around the back of his neck and massaged the tightening muscles. New Moon recognized it as a sign of uneasiness and her suspicion grew. "I was requested by Governor Glen to come to the Cherokee Nation and request warriors to go to the aid of the Choctaw." "This is ridiculous. The Cherokee will not aid the Choctaw. This is their battle, not ours." Beau brought his hands up, palms outward, to show his helplessness. "I can only do as I am requested by the governor." "Why? Panther does not run to the governor's bidding. He went only to help his friend." "Panther," Beau let out with a sigh, "does not live alone with his family on the frontier." New Moon lowered her head in understanding. "Why did they send you? Why did he not request Panther to convince our people and to take a party with him when he went?" Beau shrugged, "The situation was not as grave then. AlSoI do not believe Fitz-Gerald, ah...Panther, would agree to do that." "You are right. He would not. It is a question that must be ask when the council is gathered." New Moon laid a hand to her belly. "I will not be allowed in." "I will ask it." All eyes turned toward Akachee. "I am now allowed to enter the council meetings. I am a member of the village," she declared with an air of indignation. "All questions must be asked. It is one my son would want an answer to." New Moon smiled. "Thank you. Your son will be proud to know that his mother will not let him be forgotten." Akachee smiled happily. Bow reached down and took New Moon's hand. "Now I have a favor I must ask of you, New Moon."

He looked shyly into her face. "I could not leave Rain and the children alone on the frontier while I was away..." "They are here? They are here and you left them outside?" New Moon scrambled to her feet and dashed, as fast as her belly would allow to the door. There, sitting on the bench that Panther had made for her, was Gentle Rain. Sleeping peacefully in her arms was a very chubby little boy. Girl and Two Bears were playing excitedly with the older village children. New Moon sat down beside Gentle Rain. "Let me see your son, Rain." Rain turned to face New Moon and smiled broadly at her friend. She had worried that it would hurt New Moon to see her baby strong and healthy after her own had not lived, but now she could see her worries had not been warranted. "He is beautiful, just like his father." Rain said proudly. New Moon laughed, "He is beautiful, just like his mother." She caressed his plump cheek and then ran a finger along his tiny shoulder and arm that was creased with roll after roll of baby fat. "He did not get this beautiful glow of health from that skinny husband of yours." Both women laughed happily together as Bow escorted Akachee to the council house. *** Several hours passed before Hunting Bow and Akachee returned. Akachee did not bother to call for entrance before entering the lodge and bringing Bow in with her. New Moon helped Gentle Rain tuck in the children for the night. Dinner for the adults stayed warm on the low fire in the center of the room. By the expression on Bow's face she could tell things were not as favorable as she had hoped. He walked to the pot of deer stew and helped himself to a large portion before he sat in a chair. New Moon was used to Panther helping himself in just that sort of way. Loneliness filled her heart. "I have news." Bow stirred his stew while he waited for the three women to fill their bowls and join him. "The people have chosen not to join in on the war between the Choctaw's." New Moon and Gentile Rain were obviously relieved but they knew there was more to come. "George was also at the council meeting." "Yes, I knew he was in the village." New Moon offered. Of the two traders Panther owned the trading post with she liked George the most. He did not come to the village often. He mostly went into French territory and sold goods to the tribes that preferred the better made English products to those of the French.

George spoke perfect French and, with his smaller build and dark complexion, he easily passed as French. New Moon suspected that when Panther still worked for the king, George was what Panther called a contact. She didn't know whether or not George still worked for the king. "The governor is opening this area up to unlimited trading." He chased a piece of meet with his spoon. "The agreement with Panther for going to the Choctaw, even if he didn't re-enlist, was to extend Panther's monopoly for three years. But Panther has been gone for so long without reporting in that the governor does not feel he is obligated to honor that agreement with Panther's partners." Beau looked at the women and could see they were confused. "Panther owns a large merchant operation along with his partnership in the post." New Moon shrugged, "I know these things." She knew that in white men's terms her husband was very wealthy. She also knew that wealth was not more important to him than his life with her people. Beau took a big bite and chewed a long time while he looked thoughtfully in his bowl. "He supports many employees," he tried again, "traders, warehouse and ship crews because of the trade in this area, yet he conserves the wildlife by restricting the number and type of skins per season. Unlimited trading would deplete this area of its wildlife." New Moon sat her bowl down. "I understand. This is why George is here?" "Yes. He wants to convince the chiefs not to trade for goods other than those they can get from Thomas until he and Panther can return." New Moon looked up expectantly. "George is going to look for Panther? This is good news. My husband will return home soon." New Moon saw the glance that passed between Beau and Gentle Rain. "It is true that Panther has been gone a long time, but he is well. I would know if it were not so." That night New Moon's labor pains began. She pushed herself up. The pains had started shortly after dinner and progressively grew stronger. "Akachee?" she called out softly. "It is time." The older woman immediately came to New Moon's aid. So did Gentle Rain. "I will not ask you to come with me, Gentle Rain. I know that Bow plans to take you home in the morning." "Then you know wrong." Rain scolded. "We talked about it last night. If you will allow it, I would like to help you with the birth of your daughter."

"I still don't know why you women always believe unborn babies are girls. Rain thought the same about my son until he was born." Rain grinned tolerantly and bent down to kiss Bow quickly on the lips before going to help New Moon wrap a heavy robe about her shoulders. New Moon placed a hand over Rain's as she adjusted the robe. "I am honored that you will be there with me. I am sure Akachee will also welcome your help." "What help?" Rain giggled. "You will be doing all the work."

CHAPTER THIRTY James took a deep, sad breath, and tried to ignore the arched smell drifting upward. Would this war ever end? He had been led to believe that he would be helping the Choctaw to diminish their ties with the French. In actuality he'd seen precious few French. No, this had become a civil war among the Choctaws. James looked down at the valley below. The smoke-filled air held the smell of burning flesh and rotting dead. No battle he'd ever witnessed compared to this battle between red brothers. The scene would haunt his dreams forever. "Our Chief says you are leaving." James squatted down and picked a blade of grass. He looked closely at the green sprout before placing it between his teeth. He had heard Spotted Hawk. He didn't want Hawk to ask him to stay. "I am no longer needed here. My woman waits for me in my own village." Hawk let his gaze scan the battle scene below. "You have been given many scalps in payment. Do you have a tall lodge pole to hang them on?" James glanced up at Hawk and then straightened up. "I have a tall pole. I will cover it with the scalps of my brother's enemies." Hawk nodded and James turned and swung up on Eagle. "Fair well, my friend." James reined Eagle around and rode away from the valley of blood and death. Without thinking he took the trail he knew was traveled most often by George. Two days later he was pleased to come across George's camp. "Its good to see you, George," he said as he stepped into the light of George's small fire. Startled, George had a pistol pointed at James's heart before he had finished speaking.

"Damn it, James." he swore with a chuckle as he put his pistol away. "It's good to see you. I dare say your woman would have scalped me herself if I'd shot you dead." James laughed, "Only after torturing you for days." George shuddered, "God preserve me from wild wolves and crazy squaws." He pointed to the ground across the fire from himself. "Sit. We have much to talk about." James had not realized just how tired he was until he lowered himself to the ground. "Governor Glen has withdrawn his agreement with us. He believes you to be dead." James sprang to his feet. "I must get back to Charles Town." "Not in the dark you won't. Settle down for the night. In the morning will be soon enough to leave." Knowing George to be right James stretched out on the ground and was soon asleep. James woke to a sudden and painful kick to the ribs. In one fluid motion he rolled and sprang to his feet. With a curse he glared into the eyes of a burly man holding a pistol pointed directly at his chest. A quick look around revealed two French foot soldiers and a half dozen Choctaw warriors. He could not believe this many men were able to come upon him and George unaware. Swinging his head from side to side he looked for George. He finally spotted him. George was tied by the wrists to two trees so that he hung partially suspended between the two. James was likewise roughly grabbed and drug against his struggles to where he was also strung up like a deer ready for gutting. He looked over to George. There was a good deal of blood flowing from his left temple. A warrior stepped up and proceeded to cut George's clothes from his body. As the night air touched the bare skin, James could see him shiver. Slowly the cold penetrated his consciousness and George groaned as he came to. He glanced over to James and James saw the silent plea in their depths. The Indian stepped to James and quickly stripped him. Up until this point no words had been spoken. James figured it was about time to start up some dialogue. "What do you want?" he asked in French. The captors all laughed. One of the foot soldiers stepped up to James. "Who are you, breed?" he sneered. James twisted at his bindings in response.

"Soyou refuse to be cooperative." He turned and strode toward George. "How about you? Do you have something to say to me?" George spit a rather disgusting wad into the Frenchman's leering face. The soldier stood perfectly still as the spit slid down the side of his face. Then with a burst of anger he drove his fist into George's stomach. Yanking a hand full of hair he drew close to the bound man. "I'm going to enjoy watching what my Choctaw friends have in store for you." With a painful pull to his hair he added, "I wonder if you will die well or if your screams will fill the night like the baying of a pack of wolves." George spoke through clinched teeth as his gaze bore hatefully into the eyes of his enemy, "I'll see you in hell, you savage's whore!" The Frenchman withdrew a knife from the sheath he wore at his side and placed the flat side to George's face. "Do you know what the Indian's do with a knife as sharp as this?" He tilted the blade slightly and slid it down the side of George's face. "They use it for skinning." He lowered the knife and ran a finger along the bleeding wound he'd just opened on George's face. "Oh, my. It looks as if I cut you," he brought the finger to his lips and licked the blood off. "Not to worry. It is a shallow cut, certainly not a life threatening one." "You sonofabitch," James hissed and attention returned to him. As the Frenchman walked away from George he snapped his fingers and indicated with a quick point in the older man's direction that he wanted the warriors to finish where he had left off. "Are you going to talk to me now? Torture is not to your liking I see. Tell me, who are you and why are you here?" "I am traveling on my people's land. He is one of your own kind. Why are you doing this?" He was answered by a hard blow to the gut. "You still have not figured out who's asking the questions here. Let me make this a bit easier for you. I already know that he," he jerked his head in George's direction, "is not French. I also have a suspicion that you are not a breed." He let his eyes travel over James. "Your skin is dark, but we all know that can be accomplished with a little of the stain the Indians use on their own skin." He lowered his gaze and then looked back into James's eye. Besides, your tan is not exactly even.

George moaned through his teeth. James didn't want to look over. He didn't want to see what was happening to George. The next instant air whooshed from his lungs as a fist hit him hard in the chest. More punches followed and James swung with each one. Finally, one of the soldiers supported him from behind so the punched would hold more power. James let his mind draw upon what he'd learned from New Moon about the death sleep. The strength of the punches faded till they were little more than soft bats to his body. The captors, thinking he had fainted and feeling exhausted themselves, withdrew. With the morning came more torture. James fought against the bindings at his wrist but it was useless. He screamed out threats and obscenities first in French and then Choctaw as he watched the brutality they inflicted on George, but there was nothing else he could do. Finally at the end of three days, George slipped to a place where they could no longer cause him pain. The Frenchman the others called Captain wiped his knife as he sauntered up to James. "Well, Fitz-Gerald. Oh, I see you are surprised to see that I know who you are." He glanced over his shoulder at George's body. "Don't worry, your friend did not turn you over. He died quite well, actually. You put up a bigger racket over his punishment than he did." He slid his knife back into its place at his side. "I'm sure you will be relieved to know that we do not plan to kill you, Colonel. Oh no, we won't do that. Everyone knows that to bring you in alive will be to get a nice reward. Of course, it's not necessary to bring you in good health." He slammed a fist into James's stomach. "I would truly love to hear a little protest from you, Col. Fitz-Gerald." He hit him again. "Come here," he called over his shoulder. "Hold him for me!" James felt a shoulder pressed up against his back and then another blow. He forced his mind to float as he concentrated on the death sleep. A vision of New Moon floated before his mind's eye. The blows were softer now. He would live through this. He would return to her.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE New Moon panted like a wounded animal as she stared into the crackling flames. It was early spring. A time for watching children grow. A time for young boys to play at being warriors, soon to face the trials of manhood. It was a time of peace and love for the Cherokee as they enjoyed the feast of Hottuk- Aimpa Heettla Tana, the feast of renewed love and friendship. But what New Moon saw in the dancing flames of her fire was not a vision of happiness. She wrapped her arms tightly about her body in a wasted effort to control her quaking.

Before her, contorted in pain, was the face of her beloved. Panther's eyes were closed tight against waking. She could hear the soft chant pass from between his swollen lips as he prayed to the Great Spirit to lead him deeper into the death sleep. She scrambled to her feet and stumbled toward the door in her haste to step out into the cold night air. As Sister Wind touched her sweat-dampened skin she shivered again. Without waiting to gather a robe for warmth she turned toward the gate and started off in a fast trot for the only place on Grandfather Earth that felt sacred to her. New Moon ignored the shouts of the gate watchman as she sprinted through. She knew that word of her leaving the village before sun up would be sent to the chief. She also knew that the Chief, her brother Dancing Cloud, would be waiting for her when she returned. He would not approve of what she was going to do but he would not be able to stop her. She would leave her baby with Akachee. Panther's mother would take good care of their daughter while she was gone. New Moon made her way between the rough boulders to emerge at the riverbank. As she waded out into the cold water she wondered if her warrior had obtained the death sleep or if he still felt the pain she had seen on his face. She climbed to the top of the boulder that jutted out over the river and turned to face the east. She raised her arms high and chanted with all her heart to the wind, to the sky, and to the Great Spirit. Not long ago her warrior had stood on this stone and chanted the same prayer for her safety that she now spoke for him. The Spirits had been good to them that time, would they be again? She chanted louder. As Grandmother sun peaked above the horizon New Moon dove from her perch into the sparkling water and then stood, the water coming nearly to her shoulders, and raised her arms high in greeting. *** New Moon leaned her bare belly and breast against the rough bark of the hickory tree unmindful of how it dug into her tender skin. It had taken one full moon for the war party to locate where her warrior was imprisoned. Now she waited as she watched across the wide expanse of meadow, which led up to the Alebahma garrison where her Panther was held. She waited ...and she watched. Two days before she had visited the French trading post. Her lips pulled back in a snarl as she remembered the stupid French trader. She spoke to him in his own tongue and he'd thought her to be Choctaw. She pretended to drink his fire water, had rubbed her hands and body against him while she coaxed him into telling her about the crazy Englishman called, Red Panther.

'Zey beat ze white man, zey have staked him in zee sun iz out water, but still ze only seeng he will tell them is zat he ees Red Panther, beloved warrior." The smell of rotting teeth and sour whiskey blew in her face with each word he spoke. He wiped a dirty hand across a chin encased in a tobacco-stained beard. With the other he reached out to fondle New Moon's breast. She didn't resist but leaned closer. "Tell me more. Are they going to kill him?" Her fear for Panther and her disgust at being touched by this smelly No Thing made her voice shaky and her breath to come out in a short pant. The Frenchman mistook her reaction to be sighs of passion and ran his hand lower along her belly. He pushed her back against the fur and brought his face close to hers. New Moon fought to keep from gagging. "You are so strong. Any squaw would be proud to lay beneath you," she cooed as her hand slipped beneath his rawhide shirt and pulled it up over his head. His body odor assailed her and she thought she might retch. Instead she choked down her gore and ran her hands along his hairy chest. "Tell me more about this crazy white man. It excites me to hear it." He tossed his shirt aside and fell hard upon her. He didn't seem to notice when she turned her head away. He buried his hairy face against the soft neck she exposed to him. With a rumbling laugh he nipped cruelly at her neck and breast with his sharp broken teeth. "'Nough about ze crazy Englishman. Zey will be taking him tomorrow. Going to hang him in New Orleans." Finally, she had the information she needed. She ran her hands down his back and around his sides, "Let me help you with your pants. You are right, this has taken long enough, I am ready for you now." She felt a shudder of passion pass through his body as he raised up just enough for her to slip her hands between them to loosen his lacing. As her hand came around her fingers curled about the smooth handle of his knife. She slipped the blade between them and then, with one smooth thrust, slid it between his ribs. As he tried to rise she gripped her legs about him and held tightly as she wrapped an arm about his neck. She shoved the knife deeper and pulled it back a few inches to plunge it in again. With a hard heave he pushed up and flipped to his back trying to remove himself from her. But she clung tight and so straddled him. Over and over she shoved the knife in, each time angling it in another direction, while he struggled weakly to escape her. After what seemed a long time, the struggles ended.

She rolled from him and lay there exhausted. She had washed herself then, scrubbing not only the blood from her body but the feel of his hands and hot breath from her skin. New Moon looked toward the east. Grandmother sun had risen and made her way above the treetops. Surely it would not be much longer. She heard a shout and turned her gaze back toward the fort. The gate opened and a flat bed wagon containing a large wooden cage rolled through. New Moon's finger tips dug into the bark of the tree. She hugged her arms about it as if it were a lover. Her cheek pressed hard against its surface and she could feel the throbbing of her body against its hard bark as her heart beat like an animal's trying to free itself from the cage of her body. The wagon came closer and she slipped silently out of sight of the driver. As the wagon passed she stepped out and could see Panther huddled in the back, his face pressed against the wooden bars while he sat sprawled in the corner. She willed that he open his eyes, and he did. Their eyes met, but she was not sure he had time to gather his thoughts enough to recognize her before she had to duck back behind cover. The wagon moved slowly. The guards were unconcerned. They were will within French Territory and their prisoner had shown no fight, only an uncanny ability to keep his mouth shut, or maybe that first beating had just left him senseless. He now lay half-dead in the French man's rolling prison with no one to care if he made it to New Orleans dead or alive. But they were wrong. Behind the caravan of ten guards and one half-dead captive, stalked another, one with the skill of a warrior and the heart of a lioness. New Moon followed the wagon for three days, waiting for the new moon, the time that the spirits would work in her favor. James had been given a small skin of stale water. He picked up the skin and sipped sparingly. Each day he felt stronger even though they gave him little to eat. Each night he dreamed of New Moon. He was certain now that he had seen her. At first he'd thought himself dreaming. He turned his face to the breeze and breathed deeply. She waited out there...somewhere. *** James woke. He opened his eyes to utter darkness. He had heard something. Slowly he turned his head and peered into the darkness. His eyes strayed to the dark sky. It was a new moon. She would come tonight. He smiled. She had said she would come for him if he stayed away too long.

His warrior training came to the forefront, as he once again became The Panther. His ears tuned into the sounds of nature, the nervous stepping of the horses, the absence of the scurrying noises made by the night creatures. He made no sound as he raised to his knees. His eyes turned again to the doorway and he saw New Moon standing there. The door swung open. Nether said a word as he crawled forward and out of the cage. Not far away New Moon had tethered a horse. Panther took a hand full of mane and half swung, half pulled himself onto the horse's back. He hardly noticed the strong grip of a steadying hand as he drifted into unconsciousness. *** Panther felt the heat of the sun bearing down on him. He had been stripped and was laying spread eagle on the ground, tied in place with rawhide straps. He could hear the laughter and taunts of his captors; he could feel the sting in the many cuts made by their beatings, as they poured salt onto the angry flesh. Soft whispers to be still reached his ears and New Moon's face floated in his memory. He felt her soft hands caressing his face and felt cool water slide over his heated body. She told him to be silent and to be still. Suddenly he was cold and he wanted to cry out in his misery, but the voice returned and he lay quietly trembling, clinching his teeth to keep them from chattering. *** Panther smelled smoke and opened his eyes. He was lying in a cave covered by white men's blankets. He heard a noise and turned his head to see New Moon just returning. He watched as she carefully concealed the small opening and wondered how she could have possible drug him inside. The faint glow from the small fire afforded little light, but it was enough for him to watch New Moon move about while he lay helpless in the shadows. New Moon wore the legging and waistcloth of a warrior. Her hair, held from her face by his beaded headband, fell loosely over one shoulder and down to partially cover one bare breast. As she moved gracefully about the small shelter he watcher her with pride. He should beat her for risking her life in such a way...Good Lord! She could have been captured to be raped and tortured before given the gift of death! His thoughts spun frantically with the horrors that could have befallen her, but they hadn't, he told himself at last. He watched as she squatted before the fire and filled a wooden bowl with broth.

She rose again and the play of light and shadows across her smooth copper skin caused his stomach to tightened with a mixture of his need for her and the fear of what could have happened to her because of him. New Moon turned and walked slowly in his direction, "We are in the mountains again. You have slept long and must eat now, my beloved." A smile came to his lips. She squatted down beside him and he breathed deeply of her scent. "How did you know that I was awake?" His voice was husky and the sound of it sent heat rushing through her veins. "I know when you are watching me. I have learned that when I am near, you are as aware of me as I am of you. "Is it not so that because I was near you woke from the death sleep and were ready when I opened the cage they had put you in? Did you not hear me through the sickness when I pleaded with you to be quiet? If you had not we would have been in the French camp now." He raised a trembling hand toward her face and cursed his own weakness. "You should not have come. You could have been killed, then what would I have done?" His strength gave out and his arm sank down before he could touch her moist cheek. New Moon caught his wrist and brought his hand to her face. "I did not come alone." She kissed each of his fingers. "Buffalo came." "Buffalo is barely more than a boy." "He is a warrior. He will return to the village with two scalps. The village will be proud and the ida:hnvwi:sg will give him a new name." She traced his fingertips along her lips. "Yellow Blanket came as well, and Run's Far. You will not see them until you are ready to travel." She nuzzled her cheek into his palm and then brought his hand down along her neck and slowly to her breast. His gaze followed as she pressed his open palm over her heart and held it there. He could feel the strong steady beat. "Do you feel my heart, Panther?" Panther raised his eyes to hers. "I give you my strength." "You should not have come," his voice was little more than a whisper." "You are forever telling me that I belong to you. Now I will tell you. You belong to me. I did not want you to go, but I knew you must follow your heart. Know, my beloved, I will follow my heart as well."

Panther's eyes slid to her breast, "There was something you wanted to tell me before I left. Why did you not tell me that you carried my child within you?" "Would you have stayed?" "I don't know. I think I would have stayed with you." "If you had, you would not be the warrior that I have given my heart to." James caressed her breast as she held his hand tightly against her skin. "You say you have given your heart to me, yet you will not say that you belong to me. Will you ever give me that part of you that you hold apart from me?" "New Moon looked deep into his eyes. "I would give you anything. Do you not understand that I have already given you everything?" James grinned. "I have waited a long time to hear you admit that you belong to me." She bent and pressed her lips gently to his. Then she straightened and her demeanor became serious. She placed his hand on his own chest and patted it quickly before rolling up a blanket and placing it behind his neck and shoulders. "You must eat now and become strong. Our daughter is without her mother and my breasts ache for her." Panther brightened, "Your breast need not ache, Little Wa-sa." New Moon raised a brow, "Don't you want to hear about the daughter I gave you while you were out avenging your blood lust on the whole of the French army." She brought the spoon to his mouth and tilted it so the broth flowed between his lips. When she took the spoon away he answered, "It wasn't the entire French army any more than it was the whole Choctaw nation that I led into battle. She brought another spoonful toward his lips and he pulled back long enough to add, "Please, Wa-sa, tell me about our daughter." The next few bits were given in silence. Finally, she began to speak of her new baby. "She is a beautiful child, but I am at a loss as to a good name for her." New Moon sat down the bowl and held out her hands. "She is only this long, and her hair is the color of corn silk." Panther's eyes widened, "The bairn is a tow head? Me own sweet mother had hair as golden and bright as corn silk."

"Tow head?" New Moon repeated the words carefully. Panther let out a tired but contented sigh, "Aye, tow head. It means to have hair that is a light color." New Moon brightened, "Tow Head." "No. No, Wa-sa," Panther tried to rise to his elbows. "I'll not have a child of mine named Tow Head. It's not a name, New Moon. And certainly not the name for a girl. My daughter must have a special name." New Moon laughed as she pushed him back down, "You may name your daughter when you see her, Panther." *** The days turned to weeks as New Moon nursed her warrior back to health. Each day he grew stronger. Each day he spent fewer hours in sleep and more hours stalking about the cave and short distances beyond to bring life back into his muscles. And each night New Moon prepared their meal from freshly killed game that found its way to a tree branch just outside their shelter. "Why do the others stay away?" Panther asked one night as New Moon cleared away the last of their evening meal. She looked over to where Panther lounged, propped on one elbow with a blanket pulled up to his waist. "You are asking me this question? The warrior that bellows like an injured boar at anyone who calls to you from outside your lodge?" An auburn brow arched, "Is this our lodge then? Why are you wearing clothes? Did I not make a law about wearing clothes in our lodge?" he teased. "You did my husband, but it is chilly at night and my blanket by itself will not keep me warm." Even in the poorly lit shelter New Moon could see the heat building in his eyes. Panther smiled. "We have been here a long time. You have done well to avoid my blanket, but I would not have you avoid it again tonight." "You have been weak, my husband," she responded casually and put the last of her things away. "I am no longer weak, Wa-sa," he said as he pulled the blanket aside. Her eyes lowered and she shrugged, "You show much pride in such a small accomplishment." "Tis no such a wee accomplishment missy. Come lie down beside me and we shall discuss this matter a bit more thoroughly."

New Moon tilted her chin in a defiant angle, "Oh, but I have work ta be doin' an' I can no be wastin' my time with such as this." Panther was surprised to hear her uncanny way of mocking him in his own brogue. He laughed in delight as he reached out and grabbed her arm and pulled her roughly down on top of him. "Aye. Ye do have a mighty workload to contend with, me darlin'. I'd say 'tis goin' ta take ye most of tha night ta be done with it." He captured her face between his hands as she stretched her body out and settled herself comfortably over him. He brought his lips close to hers to touch them gently in short, soft kisses. "So you had best be gettin' busy, my little darlin'. I can be no waitin' all night." She went to him then and she said all the things that were in her heart and all the things he had longed to hear. What she did not tell him was of her vision of a beautiful white woman with golden hair and eyes the color of a summer sky. If only she had understood. The dream was no longer a source of great pain and dread for her. But as it had been intended by the Great Spirit, a promise for the fulfillment of the love they shared and of the beauty their daughter would become. The End

BIBLIOGRAPHY History of the American Indians, by James Adair. ISBN-65-27150. Published 1930 By The National Society of Colonial Dames of America, in Tennessee. Published for University Microfilms Inc. Ann Arbor by Argonaut Press LTD., New York 1966 Myths of the Cherokee and Sacred Formula of the Cherokee by James Mooney. Reproduced 1982 by Charles and Randy Elder- Booksellers Publishers ISBN 0-918450-22-5 History of the Cherokee Indians and Their Legends and Folk Lore by Emmet Starr. Pub. by Hoffman Printing Co. Inc. Muskogee, OK. 1984 The story of the Cherokee People, by Tom B. Underwood Cherokee publications ISBN 0935741-01-1 American Indian Cooking and Herb Lore, by J. Ed Sharpe and Thomas B. Underwood. Cherokee pub. ISBN 0-935741-05-4 Cherokee Plants, by Paul B. Hamel and Mary U. Chiltoskey. Library of Congress Catalog Card Number 75-27776

Cherokee Legends and the Trail of Tears, by Thomas Bryan Underwood ISBN 0-935741-00-3

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