Candace McCarthy (16 page)

“He-Who-Came-from-Far-Away,” the woman said.

Amelia studied her with surprise. “You speak English.”

The matron nodded. “I was once one from among you. I have lived as an
Anishinaabe
since I was but eleven years.”

Amelia regarded her with curiosity, noting what she hadn’t before—the woman’s light eyes. Other than the color of her eyes, she appeared as all the other Ojibwa—in dress, in stature, and in mannerism.

“My name is Woman-with-Hair-of-Fox.” She smiled. “This old woman’s hair is not so like Fox now.” She fixed her gaze on the old man. “ He-Who-Comes-from-Far-Away is
niwiidigegemaagan.
He is my husband. He has been asked by the boy’s mother and father to give their child a name.”

Amelia listened to the woman with interest. “Who is that?” she asked about an elaborately dressed man standing off to one side.

“He is our shaman. He will watch over the ceremony.” She smiled as her gaze went to He-Who-Comes-from-Far-Away. “It is a great honor for my husband to name the child. In this way, he will honor the boy with his vision name. The child will use this name until he becomes a man and receives another. The boy will use the special gift given to He-Who-Comes-from-Far-Away by the spirits. When he becomes older, he will have his own vision name, a name that will honor and protect him with the spirits that he will see in his vision.”

“Does your husband have a name for the child?”

The woman nodded. “It has long been in his mind …
since he was a young man and went into the forest alone to find his own identity.”

The village chief joined Woman-with-Hair-of-Fox’s husband. The Indian woman lowered her voice as she explained what was to occur.

The child’s mother, a young Indian woman with her hair worn in a single braid, stepped into the circle with her baby. The boy-child was in his cradleboard, a wooden apparatus big enough for the baby, cushioned with furs and beaver pelts. A wooden bar protected the child’s head. A footrest kept the child on the board whenever it stood upright—as when his mother carried him on her back or hung the cradleboard from a low tree branch where the boy could see his mother and rock gently back and forth as the cradle swung in the breeze.

The child’s cradleboard was held up by his parents so all within the village could see. The drums went silent. Then, He-Who-Comes-from-Far-Away started to speak.

“This child’s mother and father have asked me to give a name to their son. It is my honor that I should do this.” He paused and looked around. “Many of you know me as He-Who-Comes-from-Far-Away. What you may not know is my Manitu, the name from my vision quest, a name I wish to share with this little baby. It is a good Manitu; it has protected me well when I hunted. It watched over me during my long journey from the village of my clan, the Loon.”

He turned to the child and touched the boy’s cheek with a gnarled finger. “You, boy, shall be given the name of Eagle-Who-Flies-through-the-Sun.”

A murmuring throughout the gathering noted the village’s pleasure with the child’s name.

“The spirits shall be good to Eagle-Who-Flies-throughthe-Sun,” the old man said. “The spirits of the wind helps
the Eagle soar to great heights in flight. It will watch over and protect this boy as he flies toward becoming a man. He will have this Manitu until he becomes a man with his own vision quest—his own name. Until that time, I give this Ojibwa son the use of mine.”

He had appeared solemn as he’d given his speech, but now he looked at the child and smiled. “You, our son, will be an Eagle until the time you can soar on your own and become what
Gichi-manidoo
has decided.”

Amelia listened to the old man speak and his wife’s translation of what was being said. Woman-with-Hair-of-Fox was quiet as her husband became silent and the Ojibwa drummers began to play.

As the ceremony continued and the shaman began to speak, Amelia searched the gathering for Daniel. She became concerned when she couldn’t find him, until she spied him among a group of Ojibwa men. She hadn’t recognized him before, because, like her, he wore Ojibwa dress and had been painted with red, white, and yellow on his face, his hair, and across his bare, muscled chest.

Amelia’s body warmed as she stared at him. She was still trying to take in that this painted warrior was Daniel, the blacksmith, Susie’s father, and the man for whom she herself had strong feelings.

As if sensing her regard, he met her gaze. He looked as startled as she’d felt when she’d first caught sight of him. Apparently, he was as surprised by her appearance as she was by his.

He grinned, and she found herself grinning back; and for a moment, it seemed to Amelia that they were two people alone, aware of only each other.

Amelia felt a touch on her arm, and her attention turned from Daniel to Spring Blossom instead. The naming ceremony was over, and Amelia realized that she’d missed
much of the last part. Her attention had been focused on Daniel and not the events taking place within the circle.

“We eat,” the maiden said.

Amelia nodded then glanced at the older woman. “Thank you,” she said.
“Miigwech.”

The woman’s face brightened. “You are most welcome, Tree-That-Will-Not-Bend.”

Surprised, Amelia stared. “That name—why did you call me that?”

Woman-with-Hair-of-Fox smiled. “It is the name your husband, Dan-yel, calls you.”

Amelia’s gaze returned to Daniel. “He called me that?”

“So says the child, Little Flower.”

“Susie?”

The woman nodded.

“Should I be offended?”

The Indian matron frowned. “You do not like name? It is a good name, a strong one.”

She hadn’t thought of it that way. She smiled. “I like it, I think.”

“You have not heard him call you by that name?”

Amelia shook her head.

“Then I would ask him about it.” The woman’s lips twitched. “You may have your own Ojibwa name for Danyel. Yes?”

She grinned. “Yes, I think I do,” Amelia said as she narrowed her gaze on the white man across the way. “Man-with-Big-Head.”

Night came quickly, and the festivities came to a close. Amelia had never seen such a celebration. There were all kinds of food prepared by the Ojibwa women and men, treats made with maple sugar, dishes made with meat and wild rice. After the naming ceremony, there was another occasion for celebration. A young Indian brave was being inducted into the Great Medicine Society of the Midewiwin, and the event was marked by the Great Medicine Dance, an interesting, wonderful sight to see.

After a morning of traveling and a day filled with new sights, scents, and meals, Amelia was tired. She longed for sleep, but she was nervous about the sleeping arrangements. She’d spoken with Daniel only twice during the course of the evening, and their conversations were short and not private as they were surrounded by his Indian friends.

As some of the Indian families retired to their wigwams, Amelia decided to return to hers and the Traherns’. She looked for Susie to see if the little girl was ready to go to bed, but there was no sign of the child anywhere. She wasn’t worried. It had become apparent to Amelia from the start that Susie felt comfortable within the village, a fact that amazed her, because of what she’d learned from Daniel … Susie had witnessed the Indian attack when her mother had been taken. Astonished by the re-
siliency of children, Amelia was glad that Susie suffered no ill effects or felt any anger toward Indians.

As she headed toward the wigwam, Amelia recalled Susie’s bad dreams. Perhaps the attack had left more scars on Susie than she’d first thought … if the mention of a doll had caused her to start having nightmares again.

One thing of which Amelia was certain: The Indians who took her mother couldn’t have been Ojibwa, or Susie wouldn’t feel so comfortable in their midst.

The fire in the pit had been banked to softly glowing embers. Amelia wondered if she should add wood, but decided she’d ask Daniel when he finally came in for the night. She eyed the rush mats covered by thick pelts and furs, and chose a sleeping pallet toward the back wall. She had brought some things with her, but it didn’t seem right to change into a nightdress, not with the knowledge she would be sharing the wigwam with Daniel. Neither did she want to wear the doeskin tunic to bed. It was comfortable, but not for sleeping.

Amelia sat down on the sleeping pallet and worked to unbraid her hair. Tomorrow she’d have to find a place to wash it to get rid of the color. Glancing about the wigwam, she looked to see if there was anything she could use to comb her hair. When she didn’t immediately find something, she settled for using her fingers. Outside, she could still hear the soft
tum-tum
of the Ojibwa ceremonial drums. Some of the people were still celebrating, mostly members of the child’s clan—the Loon.

She stretched out on the sleeping mat and stared up at the domed ceiling of the wigwam. She was in the strangest surroundings, and she should have been afraid, but she wasn’t. She’d been a little uncomfortable at some of the looks of the men, but they’d stopped staring after they’d seen her with Daniel. She understood now that it was best
for the Ojibwa to believe she was Daniel’s woman in order to have his protection from interested Ojibwa braves.

Amelia began to feel sleepy as she lay in the wigwam alone. She listened for Daniel’s return, and when he didn’t come, she got up and added fuel to the fire. She thought he might need the light when he came in.

She went back to her Indian bed and lay down. Her eyes drifted shut. She wondered if Daniel had found some-where else to sleep as he’d suggested. She fell asleep, hoping that he hadn’t, that she would wake up in the morning to find him sleeping within a few feet of her.

Daniel waited until it was late and most of the Ojibwa had sought their sleeping pallets, before he decided it was time to seek his own. The thought of sharing a wigwam with Amelia heated his blood and made his heart race. The sight of her earlier in Indian dress, adorned with Ojibwa jewelry and face paint, had surprised, yet pleased him. How different she’d looked from the prim and proper woman who had entered his smithy that first warm August day.

During the ceremony, he’d watched Amelia, saw the curiosity in her glistening brown eyes, and the ready smile on her lips when Spring Blossom or Woman-with-Hair-of-Fox had spoken to her. He couldn’t stop thinking about her … or wanting her. He’d never felt such desire for a woman, not even his beautiful but treacherous late wife Pamela, who had so enthralled him from the first. Amelia Dempsey was a genuine woman, a warm and giving woman with underlying passion that, to his amazement, he was able to stir whenever they kissed.

He had even started to think about marriage, something he’d sworn he’d never do again … not after his disas
trous relationship … not after seeing his sister Jane’s unhappiness with her officer husband, Richard Milton.

He trusted Amelia. He’d seen her love and concern for her father, the caring she’d shown to Susie, his niece. The deterioration of Susie and Amelia’s relationship upset him. He felt like it was his fault that Susie no longer liked or trusted Amelia, and he didn’t know how to fix things.

Daniel rose from the remaining circle of men. His friend Black Hawk caught his gaze and he went over to speak with the Ojibwa briefly before seeking his bed.

“You look troubled, Dan-yel,” Black Hawk said, as Daniel sat down beside him. “Did you not enjoy our feast?”

“I did,” Daniel said. “The food and entertainment were excellent, as always. I have always said that the Ojibwa know how to enjoy themselves.”

Black Hawk stared at him with his dark piercing gaze. “You are concerned about your woman,” he said.

Daniel was amazed how his friend could easily read his thoughts. “I am worried about her father, and I am worried about her. Susie is angry with her, and it is my fault. I don’t know how to make things better between them.”

“You love this woman?”

He couldn’t answer at first. He didn’t want to say it aloud, although he knew it to be true. “Yes.”

“My friend has not had a woman for a long time. He must not blame Tree-That-Will-Not-Bend for the wrongs made by Snake-Who-Strikes-When-One-Is-Not-Looking.”

Daniel had to smile, as Black Hawk’s name for his dead wife seemed an appropriate one. He’d never heard Hawk mention Pamela before, in any way.

“You are tired,” the brave said. “You should seek your sleeping mat.”

He nodded. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Come to the wigwam of Big-Cat-with-Broken-Paw. The chief wishes to speak with you.”

“I’ll come.
Miigwech.
”

Black Hawk inclined his head. “Go to your woman. Little Flower is with Swaying Tree. She and your woman will make peace, and all will be well.”

Daniel rose. “I hope you are right.”

“Do you doubt the wisdom of this man?”

A smile turned up the corner of Daniel’s mouth. “How can I? You’ve never been proven wrong yet.”

He left the small gathering and headed toward the wigwam and Amelia. He hoped that by the time he got there Amelia would have gone to sleep.
And temptation would be firmly out of the way.

The door flap to the lodge was closed. Daniel raised the animal skin and stepped inside. The interior of the wigwam was bathed in the soft glow emanating from the fire pit. His gaze went to Amelia on the sleeping mat, and he felt relieved that she had fallen into slumber.

He approached to study her. She had released her hair from the braids she’d worn earlier, and her sable brown tresses were fanned out about her head and shoulders. She lay on her side, her face toward the fire, and he enjoyed her beauty … the thick crescent of dark lashes against her cheeks, her pink lips, her smooth white skin. Desire kicked him below his waistline hard, and he turned away to fight it.

He started to undress for bed, removing vest, armbands, and leggings, but leaving on the loincloth, before stretching out on the sleeping mat. He thought of his conversation with Black Hawk, realized his friend was right. He had to find his way with Amelia. Amelia and Susie would make friends again given time. He had to find Amelia’s father, then search for peace within himself. If Amelia and
he found that they could make each other happy, then he had to put the painful past behind him and follow his heart.

He rolled onto his side, where he could study Amelia in repose, and he saw to his surprise that she was awake and looking back at him. For a long moment, they just stared at each other. He felt his heart begin to beat faster. The fatigue he’d begun to feel as he undressed disappeared; he felt more energized and alive than he’d ever felt before.

Amelia sat up on the mat. She felt like a shameless hussy; she’d watched him undress. She’d been unable to take her eyes off him. “Daniel.”

He didn’t answer at first, but she knew he’d heard. He returned her stare. He looked wonderful. His muscled chest was bare. He had powerful shoulders and arms, a flat stomach. Her gaze traveled down to the loincloth. A wave of desire hit her so hard that she groaned softly and shut her eyes.

She wanted to touch him. She was conscious that she was alone with him. Where was Daniel’s daughter?

“Susie—”

“She’s staying with Conner,” he said softly. He rose to a sitting position. “Are you all right? Are you comfortable?”

She gave an affirmative jerk of her head.

“The Ojibwa—they’d don’t frighten you?”

Amelia shook her head. “I felt uncomfortable at first, but Spring Blossom and Woman-with-Hair-of-Fox made me feel welcome.” Her mouth formed a little half smile. “Spring Blossom dressed me. Woman-With-Hair-of-Fox explained what was happening during the ceremonies.” She shifted on the sleeping pallet and saw his attention
shift to the outline of her breasts beneath the doeskin dress.

“I didn’t realize that Woman-with-Hair-of-Fox is a white woman,” she said. “She told me that she came to live with the Indians when she was only eleven.”

“She told you she was a white woman?” Daniel frowned.

“Well, she probably wouldn’t have, but I asked her where she learned to speak English.”

Daniel’s brow cleared. “She has been happy with He-Who-Comes-from-Far-Away for as long as I’ve known her.”

Daniel couldn’t keep his eyes off Amelia. She was appealing to look at with her tousled hair and sleep-softened face. As he gazed at her, he wanted her with a completeness that caused him pain. Several lustful thoughts passed through his mind, but there was more than lust in his feelings for Amelia … so much more.

Amelia gazed back at him steadily, and he fought the urge to pull her into his arms and make tender love to her.

“Tell me—who is Tree-That-Will-Not-Bend?” she asked, but it was clear in her expression that she knew.

He felt his face heat. “Where did you hear that?”

She smirked. “From Woman-with-Hair-of-Fox. She says it’s your name for me. Is that true?”

Had he detected a note of hurt in her voice at the nickname? “Black Hawk called you Woman-with-Eyes-of-Deer. I thought Tree-That-Will-Not-Bend more appropriate.” He paused, noting the way her face fell as he spoke. “Black Hawk agreed. Do you know what he said when I told him?”

She shook her head. Daniel felt like he was drowning in the watery depths of her lovely brown eyes.

“He said that it is a good name for you. A woman who is strong and as lovely and as a beautiful as a sturdy tree. Tree-That-Will-Not-Bend”

She looked surprised but pleased. “He said that?”

Daniel nodded. “He said it, and I meant it.”

“Oh.” She glanced away then, and he could tell she was embarrassed by this offhanded bit of praise. “I thought you were referring to my stubbornness.”

“That, too.” He grinned at her look of outrage.

“Am I that terrible?” she asked.

He was surprised to see tears in her eyes. She looked so pretty and vulnerable. He wanted to kiss her so desperately that it was a physical ache in his heart. “Amelia.”

She didn’t look at first.

“Amelia, please look at me.”

She met his gaze then. “Yes?”

He rose to his knees and shifted toward her sleeping mat. A quick flicker of alarm passed over her features, and he hesitated until he saw the look of longing that quickly replaced her fear. “Nothing about you is terrible,” he murmured huskily.

He slid next to her on the sleeping pallet, clad only in a loincloth, while she sat in the Ojibwa dress, secured by two single straps that ran over her shoulders. He eyed the curve of her shoulder and felt the strongest urge to press his lips to her skin. He gazed into her eyes and wanted to do more than kiss her. He gave in to the urge to put his mouth to her shoulders, and enjoyed the sound of the swift intake of her breath. He loved the way she trembled beneath the simplest contact with him.

He closed his eyes to savor the warm smoothness of her skin beneath his lips, the sweet scent of her that enveloped him as he buried his nose in her hair. When she turned to allow him access to the back of her neck and
other shoulder, he groaned and continued to move his lips across her nape, back, other shoulder, and finally her ear.

She gasped as he nibbled on her earlobe, then moved on to turn her fully into his arms. He kissed her as he’d been wanting to do since their last kiss. He devoured her lips with his mouth, held her against him as if he was afraid if he released her he’d lose her forever. To his great joy, she wasn’t frightened. She was enjoying the contact between them as much as he was. He lifted his head to study her and was elated to see the dreamy look in her eyes. Her pink lips were begging to be kissed again.

He felt himself harden beneath the breechclout. “Amelia,” he said in a strained voice, “I’ll leave if you want me to.”

“No!” she exclaimed, while encircling his neck with her arms. She shifted to press herself closer to him.

Daniel thought that if he didn’t have her soon, he would explode. “I’m sorry—”

“No.” She pressed her lips against his mouth and kissed him. She began to kiss him all over his face, while straining to get closer to him. Her hands began to explore his naked chest, and he groaned at her delicate touch, then gasped with satisfaction as her caresses became bolder.