Another Chance (22 page)

As she strolled down the center hall, the front door opened
. The silhouette of a tall man blocked most of the outside light. Her heart accelerated. "Silver Wolf."

"Nay, it is I, White Owl
." He moved closer. "My grandson told me of your arrival. I bid you welcome."

"Thank you for allowing me to stay
." She drew nearer so she might see his face.

He eyed her curiously
. "Did you wish to go outside?"

She nodded
. "I should like to see the plantation."

"I shall be your guide
." He offered her his arm and helped her through the door and down the steps.

Glancing around the open area that lay between the house and the barn, she asked, "Where is ev
eryone?"

"The men and young boys are hunting or fishing
. The women are smoking and preparing the food for winter."

She took a deep breath
. The smell of burning wood and the aroma of meat cooking teased her nose. "Should I help them?" she asked.

He patted her arm
. "You are an honored guest. Our women would be offended if you worked."

Mixed feelings greeted these words
. Although she had grown tired of physical work while at the tavern, the thought of nothing to do distressed her.

"Would you like to see what they are doing?" White Owl offered
.

"Yes
. Thank you.” She eagerly accepted.

They strolled to the other side of the barn in an amiable silence
. The pleasant odors grew stronger. Soon they rounded the corner. Sarah saw women and girls working. Two older boys stood on the outskirts, their bows and quivers draped over their shoulders; in the center of the operation stood Wolf. Catching sight of them, he strode forward. When he drew near, he stopped and stared at her hair. Self-consciously, her hand went to her head. "Thee forgot to pack my caps," she said, putting the blame on him.

He surveyed her long flowing hair, but did not speak
.

"The cap I wore here is dirty," she blurted out, blush
ing and trying to excuse her appearance.

"I am pleased that I did not pack your caps
. Such beautiful hair should not be covered."

His words increased her flush, but his compliment made her heart swell with joy
.

"Where are you going?" Wolf asked
.

"Your grandfather volunteered to show me the plantation, I agreed happily
." Boldly, she added, "Will thee walk with us?"

"If you are going in my direction, I will accompany you," he replied
.

Unwilling to allow his qualifier to spoil the opportunity, she said, "Since I wish to see as much of Long Meadow as possible, thee select the way
."

"We will start here
.”

Sarah
looked around. Carefully, she examined the area that she previously had only glimpsed. In a nearby field, two young teenagers tended the racks of meat that lay suspended over a large, rectangular bed of coals. The girls walked around the outside perimeter turning the slices with sticks and adding wood when necessary. Directly beside them, three women butchered meat. Deer, rabbits, and squirrels hung near.

White Owl introduced her
. The women appeared to be about Sarah's age. All of them smiled shyly.

"Thou has quite a chore
."

They nodded, but continued working
.

Since Lenape seldom chatted,
Sarah wondered how she could develop any type of friendship. Perhaps, her task would be easier with the two older women squatting off to the left. Each scrapped the inside of an animal skin. Sarah drew closer and asked the nearest one, "What doeth thou doing?"

The woman scraped as she spoke, "My son killed a bear
. I will make a warm cape for my first born."

Sarah
smiled her thanks. "And thou?" She turned her attention to the neighbor.

"The deer will be a part of my daughter's wedding outfit
." She smiled shyly.

"When will the wedding be?"

"At the time of the Wolf Moon."

Looking at White Owl, then Wolf,
Sarah heard the older Lenape say, "Our name for January."

As they walked on, Wolf sa
id, "Our community divides the bones, meat, horns of each animal. The brave who makes the kill claims the fur."

"Since only men hunt, wha
t would a widow or an unmarried woman do for a skin?"

"The leaders share with them
. Also, they can trade."

"What could they trade?"
Sarah asked. She had read about a bartering system, but the historian in her wanted to have the practice verified or refuted by an original source.

"Clay pots, baskets, jewelry and decorative objects
…"

"Like the porcupine box I received?"

He nodded. "They bargain for their needs."

"Who made mine?"

"Quick Rabbit," Wolf said, in a very different tone.

"If she is about, I should like to meet her and thank her
. The workmanship is beautiful, but to work with those quills must be rough on her hands." Sarah looked at her own fingers and shuttered.

"She is the woman I mentioned," Wolf said
.

Sarah
blanched. "The one the soldiers raped?"

Wolf nodded
.

"How is she?"
Sarah asked.

"I have not seen her since we returned
." Looking at his grandfather, he asked, "Has her conditioned changed?"

"No," White Owl responded
. "Nothing we do helps."

Although
Sarah wanted to learn more, hearing the older man's tone, she forbore asking. Later, she would speak to Wolf or one of the women. She restated her question. "If the woman has no talent or is infirm?"

"All women have ability," White Owl said, "even the old
."

"But, if they cannot?" she pushed
.

"Then the community takes care of her," Wolf said, matter-of-factly
.

"What about a man?"

"Age and gender matter not all. Our people help each other." Wolf stared at her. "Why do you ask?"

The tales of old or maimed Indians sitting in the snow waiting to die had triggered her interrogation, but she could not admit that
. Shrugging her shoulders, she said, "I’m interested in learning about other cultures."

At the far end of the yard, smoke streamed from two small thatched sheds
. Two other teenage girls stood nearby. As Sarah and her companions drew near, she saw them wrapping something in corn husks. The scent of fish filled the air. Next, one went to a small enclosed building and opened the door. The smell intensified. "A smoke house?"

Wolf nodded
. "Would you care for a sample?"

Her stomach growled its acceptance
. All three of them laughed.

"May we have a taste?" White Owl asked the girls
.

"Certainly,
XhanXhan
," the shorter of the two replied, partly in English and partly in Lenape.

"Can
everyone speak English?" Sarah asked.

"Since whites surround us, our people must understand and converse fluently in your language
. If we did not, the settlers would take additional advantage of us," Wolf told her. Bitterness touched every syllable.

The truth of his words embarrassed her, but her own inquisitiveness pushed her on
. "The night of thy father's funeral, when we participated in the festival, thou spoke English." She stared at White Owl.

"Since you and your father do not understand our language, it would have been impolite to use Lenape
. My people understood," he said.

"How thoughtful," she responded, remembering the foreign visitors who had to know English to survive in the United States
. His comment, also, reinforced Silver Wolf’s rebuke of Little Turtle.

"The tongue we use matters less than the words and the sincerity," the older man said
.

"To a
Lenape," Wolf added, "honor and integrity are essential."

The accent he placed on his people's name deepened her embarrassment
. She knew history documented too often that in dealing with Indians, whites lacked both. Thankfully, the girl handed Sarah a corn husk, saving her from commenting. On top lay three bite size pieces of fish. After thanking the young woman, Sarah offered her hosts a piece.

They declined
.

Lifting it toward her mouth, she blew before taking a taste
. "It's delicious. What kind of fish?"

"
Wisa'ak
, or fat fish. You say catfish," White Owl replied.

"
XhanXhan
, may I serve you?" the taller teenager asked.

"One, please
."

"Is
KhanKhan
, White Owl in Lenape?"

"The word is spelled
X h a n
. We pronounce the x like a hard ch," Wolf said. "It means Grandfather."

Sarah
looked at the young woman, then at Wolf. "Is she thy daughter?"

"Calling White Owl grandfather is a courtesy
, a way of showing respect." Wolf's face sobered. "My wife had only one child before she was taken from me," he said, in a somber tone.

Wolf must have loved his wife deeply or have recently lost her, or both for his mood changed swiftly
. Unsure if she should offer her condolences or not, Sarah kept quiet.

Without another word, Wolf said, "I must complete my work
. Please excuse me."

As she watched him leave,
Sarah recalled his voice and the pain he had shown when he mentioned his wife. To compete with such love would be an impossible feat for anyone. For the first time since meeting him, Sarah was glad this existence was only a temporary one for her heart ached with an intensity she’d never before experienced.

"Shall we return?" White Owl asked
.

She swung around and faced him
. "If thou wishes," she said less than enthusiastically.

"We can continue walking," he replied
.

"I would like that
." Sarah wanted the clean, crisp air to chase the melancholy mood that had descended over her. "May I ask thee about thy wife?"

White Owl smiled warmly
. "Shall I tell you how we met?"

Hoping to hear of romance and love,
Sarah said, "Please."

"Many, many seasons ago, in your year of 1728, I stopped at this plantation on my way west
. What remained of my family had preceded me. The runoff from the spring rains had muddied the rivers. I thirsted for fresh water."

Sarah
considered asking why he had left his own land, but held her tongue, remembering how the Lenape and other tribes were driven from their property.

"I discovered a young woman with hair the color of summer squash
. Her eyes matched the distant hills on an early spring morning." He stopped at a fallen log. "Shall we?"

From here,
Sarah saw a small run, twisting its way between the two hills. In a few sections, the little creek held water. After a hard rain or in the spring, the stream would run full and fast and carry a heavy load of sediment. A canopy of oaks, tulip poplars, and maples with branches almost bare, allowed the sunlight to flow through. She scuffed her feet against the layer of newly fallen leaves, enjoying the sound and warmth of the sheltered spot then sat on the dead tree trunk.

White Owl joined her
.

"It is beautiful and peaceful," she said
.

He nodded
.

"Pray, continue thy story," she said
.

"Emily was digging a third hole, near two shallow, empty graves
."

Chills raced up
Sarah's spine.

White Owl fingered the bow and arrow tattooed on his upper left arm
. At home, such markings dismayed her, yet on this man they enhanced his physical prowess.
Did many Lenape have them?
she wondered
.

"As I approached, she drew back," White Owl said
. "She spoke, but my English was not good. Using sign language, I told what I wanted. She gestured; I followed.

"Her mother, father and five siblings had died
. Emily was preparing the last three graves. We buried her father and two oldest brothers. Emily had no other family in America. I volunteered to stay and help until a white tenant farmer could be found." He picked up a stick and began carving the thick twig with a knife that he had drawn from his belt.