Another Chance (10 page)

Deep bass tones reverberated on the ground, increasing the frenzy of the steps
. The men, women, and children moved in an almost stylized, set pattern. "Are there prescribed steps to follow?" Sarah asked.

"Not really
. Would you like to try?" Silver Wolf asked. He lifted an eyebrow.

Sarah
started to rise then remembered Benjamin. "Yes, but my father would never approve and I have displeased him enough today." She sighed. "Go, join them if thou wilt. I will sit here with thy grandfather and the old drummer." The wistfulness in her voice shone through her words.

Silver Wolf laughed
.

The sound surprised her
. She twisted on the mat. His face had lightened, the lines on it lessened, and the harshness diminished. She enjoyed seeing another side of this somber man. "You have disobeyed him before," Silver Wolf replied.

Did she detect teasing in his tone?  She thought about his comment
. "No. I challenged his control. My participation will hurt him. I cannot do that. He is stern, but soft inside." As she stated the words, she realized she spoke the truth.

"I wi
ll stay by your side and watch, in case you have questions."

She smiled
. A short while later, she started tapping in time with the drum.

Silver Wolf glanced at her
.

"This is allowed," she retorted, although she knew not whether she spoke the truth
.

He chuckled
.

His light laughter surprised her
. She wished he would do so more often.

Eventually, the music stopped and the dancers returned to their seats
. Little Turtle collapsed on his mat and lay his head on his father's thigh. Gently, Silver Wolf lifted the boy and placed him totally on the rush cushion. A soft murmur of protest rose from the child.

"Hush, my son
."

The lad immediately stilled
.

With grace, Silver Wolf stood, and everyone else squatted on the ground
. "We start our watches tonight."

Although he had not elevated his voice,
Sarah knew all heard him speak. She watched as he selected the braves for the first patrol. When Silver Wolf finished, cheering filled the night sky. Many people jumped up and danced a few steps then they picked up their bowls, mats, and other possessions, and headed toward the cabins.

Silver Wolf faced
Sarah and offered her his hand. "My grandfather wishes to be excused. He will see you in the morning before you depart."

Little Turtle staggered to his feet and stumbled toward the house
.

"Shall I carry you?" Silver Wolf asked
.

The boy's shoulders drooped, and his legs buckled
. In one swift movement, Silver Wolf lifted him into his arms. Once there, the lad nestled against his father's chest and sighed with contentment. A warm smile filled Silver Wolf's face.

Several times this evening,
Sarah had seen another side of this impassive Lenape. She liked his reaction to his son, to his people, and especially to her. As she walked beside him, she considered taking his arm. Instead, she said, "Thank thee for inviting us to stay."

"You are welcome," he replied
.

"Is tonight the end of the ceremony?" she asked
.

"My people mourn for twelve days, starting on the day of the person's death
; during that time, the spirit of the departed journeys to its new home in the stars."

Earlier, she had heard Silver Wolf say that to Little Turtle
. Without Benjamin present, she voiced her opinion. "What a beautiful thought."

Silver Wolf glanced at he
r curiously, his eyebrows rose as if waiting.

She looked up at a sky that had cleared
. When had this happened? Had the ceremony help lift the sorrow and thereby the heavens? She chided her superstitious thoughts, but did not divert her focus. So many constellations, more than she ever seen before, some she had seen only in drawings or at a planetarium stared back at her. "The idea that thy family members are visible, perhaps looking down on thee, sharing thy problems, caring about thy life gives one a sense of peace. I could accept that."

"What would your father say about that?"

Sarah blushed. "Well…"

He eyed her
.

She did not want him to think her father prejudiced against the Lenape's beliefs
. "We believe in heaven. Why can't heaven be the sky?"

He examined her expression and disbelief showed in his face
. "You really think he might agree?"

She shook her head
. "Probably not."

Silver Wolf nodded his agreement
.

As they walked up the steps and into the house,
Sarah remarked, "What a beautiful home." When she had arrived earlier, she had noticed the large two-story structure. The stone had appeared to have a hint of blue. She remembered that many Colonial homes had been constructed of this strong, local material.

Since Silver Wolf had his arms filled,
Sarah pushed down on the wrought iron knob and shoved the heavy, oak door open. She followed him into the long hall that traversed the length of the house. Hand-blocked wallpaper covered both sides.
Who would have guessed Indians lived like this?
  Then, she remembered tales of the opulent homes build by the Cherokees in Georgia and North Carolina and embarrassment replaced her previous thoughts.

A middle-aged woman dressed in a bright red wrap around skirt greeted them
. "Bowl-Woman, this is Sarah Stone."

"Good to meet you,"
Sarah said.

The chubby Lenape smiled and nodded
. "Your room ready."

"Thank thee
."

Bowl-Woman held out her arms for the child
. When she cuddled him to her breast, she murmured a few words in a soft, lilting language. Sarah watched the woman carry the boy up the steps.

"If you will follow me, I will show you to your room," Silver Wolf said
.

"May I see the house before I sleep?"
Sarah asked. Although she considered her request presumptuous, her inquisitive mind plus the fact that she would be leaving early tomorrow pressed her to ask. A quiet voice added that stealing a few more minutes with a fascinating man might have had a
little
influence on her forwardness.

"My home?"

She nodded.

He shrugged
. "Certainly. If you will pardon me for a minute, I must speak to Bowl-Woman.”

"Of course
."

"Go into the parlor
. I will meet you there."  He gestured to the room on the right side of the hall.

Sarah
walked in. Beautiful paper with scenes of trees and animals decorated the walls. Chippendale furniture flanked the walls accenting the red Aubusson carpet. On a small pie crust table, a tin-ware tea service stood as if waiting for a hostess to come, sit, and begin to pour. In the corner fireplace, wood was laid on the grate ready for a match, opps, a flame. The ends of the fireplace, jutting into the room, were crescent shaped permitting the warmth to extend to a larger portion of the parlor. Above the mantel, a door-less wooden cabinet stood recessed into the wall. Small pieces of saltware decorated the shelves.

The grace and quality of the furnishings amazed her
.
How can Silver Wolf hate whites, yet embrace such unquestionably European splendor? Does he separate what belonged to his grandmother from whom she was?
No pictures graced the walls. Six over nine windows remained bare of decoration. The room had the appearance of an unfinished museum.
Did anyone ever sit on a chair, drink from a cup, or was the parlor only cleaned and dusted? Had Silver Wolf's grandmother not had time to finish decorating before she died? Had lack of money interfered with her plans?

She heard Silver Wolf clear his throat
. "Oh," she exclaimed as she turned around. His clothes contrasted sharply with the elegance of the room, yet his manner and his presence fitted well with the furnishings. "What an exquisite room."

His face hardened
. "Are Indians not allowed to possess fine pieces of furniture?"

"Of course
. I only meant"

"I know what you meant
. We should live in wigwams or lean-tos, but not a white man's house." His gruff voice turned bitter. "If you will follow me, I will show you to your room.” He whirled around.

She ran to him
. Grabbing his forearm, she tried to stop his steps. He shrugged her off like a troublesome fly. She dashed in front of him, blocking his path and holding her ground. "No you, damn,
thou
doesn’t know what I mean."  Sarah placed her hands on her hips. "This house is lovely. Period. The ownership makes no difference. To see such wonderful decorative arts anywhere is a surprise; to see them in a country house more so.

"And, to see them in an
Indian's
house, the greatest shock of all." An iron statue could scarcely compete with the hardness his face showed. He slid to the side as if to go around.

Anger burned inside her
. "Don't make statements, and pretend they are my words. I can express myself quite well without any help from thee." She sensed his hesitation and charged ahead. "Will thou forget thy animosity toward me because of the color of my skin for just one evening and please show me thy house?"

He hesitated, as though debating her words
. His jaw muscles tensed and finally released. "Come," he said harshly.

As he took her through his house,
Sarah kept trying to think of a way to halt or at least bank his resentment toward all whites, especially her.

She saw another sitting room with Windsor style chairs, two cushioned settees, and a corner table
. A hooked rug decorated the center of the parlor. Again, the windows remained bare of curtains allowing the starlight to illuminate the room. The greens and yellows used throughout the parlor gave a warm, homey feel. "Doeth thou sit here often?"

"Even an Indian appreciates a chair, now and then," his voice as uncompromising as before
.

Sighing silently in frustration, she followed him down the hall
.

The large, first
floor kitchen radiated warmth, but not only from the stove. Here was the heart of the house. "What a wonderful room!"

"We discovered having a roof over the cook's head keeps her dry when the rain comes
. She is more productive when dry and the food tasted better."

Sarah
considered pounding on him, forcing him to see her as herself, not the image he chose to create in his mind.

"My grandfather's room is the last room downstairs," Silver Wolf said
, as he whirled around.

Gritting her teeth, she followed him to the room across the hall
. Only a mat and a painting of a woman graced this room, yet it spoke loudly of White Owl.

"He seldom sleeps here for like most savages he enjoys
sleeping outside rather than inside."

She nearly gasped at the sarcasm in his voice
. Silver Wolf had meant to hurt her with his caustic remark, and he had. However, his words angered her to the point that she resolved to set him straight. Sarah pushed him against the wall of the long hall.

A shocked expression crossed his face, but she refused to allow his surprise to stop her
.

"That's enough!
I enjoy visiting homes. I relish seeing different decorations. I like learning about people. And I am not prejudice."  Although she spoke softly, she hurled the words at him rapidly.

He stayed leaning against the wallpaper
. Carefully, he eyed her from the top of her head to her plain, black pumps. She stood straight, never flinching, even when his gaze fastened on her chest.
If he means to discomfort me, he has chosen the wrong woman!

"Shall we go upstairs?"

"After thee.  "  She marched up the steps. Her grandmother would have been proud of her erect posture.
I bet I could even keep a book balanced on my head.
The totally unrelated idea eased her tension and her anger, slightly.

U
pon reaching the second floor, he said, "Your room is at the end of the hall on the left. I will see you in the morning." He opened the door in front of him, went in, and closed it.

She had not expected him to invite her in, but his cold, rude departure amazed her
. At times during the evening, he had been a diffident, yet polite host. But this! She considered banging on his door and…-what? Force him to apologize? As proud as he was, he would never admit he had made a mistake. She shook her head and walked toward her bedroom. Could she have done something to make him understand? Reluctantly, she decided she had said all that was possible. His prejudice against whites colored his hearing.