Riverbreeze: Part 2 (17 page)

The twins hugged, happy as larks. They were both officially married women now, and thrilled. “I felt it!” Elizabeth whispered in Evelyn’s ear.

“Felt what?” Evelyn asked stupidly, but then at Elizabeth’s pointed look, asked, “You felt
it
?” Her look was incredulous.

Elizabeth nodded vigorously.

“But…how?” Evelyn eyes were wide with wonder.

“I know not. We have much to talk about.”

“Not now, surely.” Evelyn said, glancing anxiously into the kitchen over Elizabeth’s shoulder. “I’m not dressed.”

“You’re wearing my wrapper.” Elizabeth’s voice was soft as she tugged affectionately at the lace collar.

“You know I love this wrapper.” Evelyn responded, automatically reassuring Elizabeth.

“’Tis crooked.”

“But you made it and that’s what matters to me.”

Elizabeth hugged Evelyn again, her heart gladdened.

“Ladies, come have your breakfast before it gets cold! You can tell each other your secrets later when Jamie and I have gone.” Robert’s voice interrupted the twins. He sounded irritated again.

Elizabeth jerked in his direction. “Gone? Where are you going?” She asked, disappointed to hear that he would be leaving again. “And we do not tell secrets!” She declared indignantly, although she knew that would be exactly what she and Evelyn would do once they men were gone.

Robert snorted. “Elizabeth…” He said with a warning in his voice.

“What?” She said innocently.

He regarded her for a moment, drumming his fingers on the table.

She smiled coyly.

He sighed, giving up. “We have to go see the sheriff and report Connelly missing.”

“I thought you did that yesterday.”

“I went to the neighbors to report him missing and to have them spread the news.” Robert said in clipped tones.

“Oh.”

“We shouldn’t be too long. We only have to go a few miles down river. The sheriff’s property is next to ours. Now do sit down and eat.”

Elizabeth decided she needed to obey Robert at this time. If she wasn’t careful she could push him away with her little white lies and her closeness to Evelyn. And she shouldn’t give the servants any more reason to gossip about them. So once again she settled herself beside him while and Jamie and Evelyn sat opposite them. But while she pretended to be the demure, soft-spoken wife, she nearly squirmed in her seat, wanting the men to leave so she and Evelyn could, indeed, trade secrets.

Chapter Twenty-Two: Runaway

Robert and Jamie never made it to see the sheriff. Just as they were about to step onto the path that led down to the river, Owasewas jumped out from around the side of the house, letting out a little war whoop and scaring the piss out of the boys. Much to Robert’s embarrassment, he gasped like a frightened girl. Jamie did too, although his gasp was more like a yelp.

Owasewas dissolved into laughter. He fell on his arse, landing hard on the hard-packed ground, laughing hysterically, holding onto his stomach. His longbow lay forgotten for the moment on the ground beside him. “You…you f..f..funny!” He gasped, trying to catch his breath.

Robert glared at him. “What the devil are you doing here?” He shouted, waving one hand angrily. He didn’t appreciate Owasewas playing tricks on him, although Owasewas did have a wicked sense of humor at times. And he wondered what could have brought the savage back so soon. Owasewas usually didn’t visit two days in a row. And as much as he hated to admit it, he was always amazed and frightened at how good Owasewas was at hiding himself.

“Back off, Rob.” Jamie shot his brother an annoyed look; he was not so vexed by the Indian jumping out at them. He extended a helping hand to Owasewas, grinning broadly. “Wasee! Great to see you again.”

Robert glowered at them as the Indian ignored Robert and grabbed Jamie’s forearm and Jamie pulled him up. But Robert didn’t stay surly for long; he couldn’t blame Jamie for his delight in seeing Owasewas since he had missed seeing him yesterday due to his illness.

Still grinning widely, Owasewas readjusted his wolf-skin mantle, his otter-skin pouch at his waist and his quiver while he stepped in front of Jamie and looked him all over. “You…sick?”

“No, I’m not still sick!” Jamie declared. “I’m all better now. See?” He beat his chest a few times with his fist. “Strong as an ox!”

Robert rolled his eyes at Jamie while Owasewas frowned. “
Onxe
?” He asked, forming his hand into a semblance of a beak shape and putting it close to his nose, then pulling it back as if lengthening his nose, then moving that arm and hand to his backside and waving it a little to indicate a tail. “
Onxe
?” He repeated.

“No, not fox!” Jamie said, knowing the Powhatan word for fox. “Ox! Ox!” Jamie repeated, hunching his shoulders as he lowered his head. He stomped in place a few times, grunting deep in his throat.

Owasewas imitated Jamie, grunting and stomping, making his shell earring swing and his shell and copper necklace rattle. “Ox. Ox.” He chanted, seemingly delighted by this new word.

Dressed as a proper Englishman should be dressed to go see the sheriff, in wool breeches and a clean shirt under his wool doublet and leather bucket boots, Jamie’s outfit was not quite as noisy.

“You two look ridiculous!” Robert exclaimed, shaking his head. Standing with his hand on his hip, he added, “That is the worst imitation of an ox I’ve ever seen!”

Jamie stopped and stared indignantly at Robert. “And how would you do it?” He demanded.

“Oh, no! I’m not even going to attempt it!” Then turning back to Owasewas, he softened his voice, saying, “So,
Netab
, why are you here?”

At that question and at being called ‘friend’ Owasewas sobered, all traces of animation wiped from his face. His nearly black eyes turned serious as he looked at Robert. He sighed before he spoke. “I bring news. My people go on hunt…big hunt.”

He started, signing with his hand. “…find
uttasantasough nemarough
…” He pointed to Robert, then at Jamie. “English man. Leg hurt.”

Robert straightened. Owasewas had his full attention now. “An English man? With an injured leg? When?” He turned to Jamie. “Could it be Connelly, do you think?” He exchanged a hopeful look with his brother. To get Connelly back so soon would be quite fortunate.

Jamie shrugged his shoulders. His expression was grim. “Could be. If the poor bugger wasn’t our runaway, I’d feel sorry for him.”

Owasewas was nodding his head gravely. “Yes, Con…nel…ly. He say name…Con..nel..ly. He say
your
name, Ba..ssett.”

Robert frowned. “He said my name? You’ve seen him?”

Owasewas nodded, grunting something to the equivalent of Uh huh. “Ug-ly bas-tard.” He grinned suddenly, showing strong, even teeth.

Robert and Jamie both chuckled with him; Robert almost regretting teaching Owasewas those uncomplimentary English words. Nevertheless, he readily agreed with the savage. “True, he’s not the best-looking Englishman in the land.” Robert said.

“Rather homely, if you ask me.” Jamie added.

“When did your people find him?” Robert asked, getting back to business.

“Ningh rawcosowghs
.”

“Two days.” Robert said thoughtfully. He turned to Jamie. “It was two days ago that we went to father’s. Obviously he went northeast through the back country rather than follow the river, not knowing he would walk directly into…” He turned back to Owasewas. “…your people’s winter hunting grounds. Is he at your village now?”

Owasewas shook his head. “At winter village.”

“Will you bring us?” Robert asked immediately. He knew how the tribe moved from their main village on the north side of the Pamunkey River to the south side of the river, north of the Chickahominy River to hunt in the fall before winter set in. But he had never been to the temporary village.

Owasewas nodded, but looked sad, almost as if he didn’t want to do it. “I bring you…” he said reluctantly, his eyes downcast.

“What is it, Owasewas? Why so glum?” Robert tried to tease him, but failed. “You’ve brought us many times to your village before.”

The Indian finally raised his eyes, still dejected. “…you bring guns…that one…” He pointed directly at Robert’s pistol at his waist and then held his hands wide apart to indicate the flintlock musket he knew Robert hunted with. “And big gun.” He added. “Trade for Con-nel-ly.”

“Oh no.” Robert quickly responded, placing one protective hand on his pistol, the only gun he had felt he would need to carry on the short three-mile trip down the river to the Sheriff’s place.

The pistol that Robert carried with him whenever he traveled had been a gift from Francis Tyler. It was a beautiful flintlock gun with a 13-1/2 inch barrel made by the flourishing London gunsmith, William Watson, his name in script marked on the lockplate. Tyler had given Robert the pistol and a musket with a 48” long barrel on the day of his wedding and Robert knew how expensive the guns must have been. He had been extremely grateful to his father because the law did require that the head of the family should keep in his house, ready to hand, a well-fixed gun, two pounds of powder and eight pounds of shot for every person under him who was able to carry arms and Robert would have never been able to afford to purchase the guns on his own. He would never give up this gun for anyone.

Jamie had also been given a similar pistol and musket at the time of his release from his contract. And Jamie did the same, clutched the pistol at his waist. He took a small step back, and his expression showed disappointment.

Robert expected that Jamie had wanted this visit to be a social call rather than this nasty business. He himself was not looking forward to this particular trip to see Owasewas’ people, and for more than one reason. Even though he had visited the Powhatan people many times before, they had always been purely social visits. While it was mostly illegal to trade with the savages, and absolutely illegal to trade guns and ammunition, some men had special licenses to trade glass beads, copper, iron tools, cloth, small knives and axes for furs, baskets and wooden platters; and Robert would never presume to take their business.

His own face was now set in firm lines. “I cannot. You know ‘tis against the law for us to trade guns with you and
I
need my own guns. I
cannot
trade them!”

“Opechancanough not like.” Owasewas said ominously. “Opechancanough want guns.”

“I do not care a fart if Opechancanough doesn’t like it!” Robert said angrily. “I
cannot
and
will
not trade my guns! I will not risk losing my estates for that damned runaway!”

Owasewas stood there unmoving. He didn’t even blink. “English man will die.” He said matter-of-factly.

“Damn it, Owasewas!” Robert burst out, extremely frustrated. He glared at the savage. He hadn’t seen this side of Owasewas before. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to see it; maybe he had missed the fact that the thirteen-year-old boy he had caught lurking around his plantation three years ago was now a very, grown-up sixteen-year-old man. And a man who could be very dangerous. And a man whose loyalties lay with his tribe despite his friendship with Robert and Jamie.

But at being cursed at, Owasewas’ stoic façade slipped. He flinched as if Robert had struck him.

Robert noticed it and sighed, regretful of his outburst. “They sent you, didn’t they?” Robert asked softly. He put his hand on Owasewas’ shoulder. “Because they know we are
mawchick chammay
, the best of friends. This is a test.”

Owasewas looked miserable. He nodded.

“There must be something else that we can do.” Jamie spoke in the silence.

“What?” Robert said grumpily. “If you have any ideas, let me hear them.” Now that Robert knew that Owasewas had been sent to them, he was tempted to just let Connelly be sacrificed, for that’s exactly how the Powhatans would view the killing. It would sure teach Connelly a lesson, but on the other hand, Robert would never be able to live with himself afterwards if he didn’t at least try to save him, knowing how the savages tortured and executed their enemies. And besides he had paid almost six pounds sterling for the man’s passage. He wanted to get some work out of him for that.