Read Online Jamestown (The Keepers of the Ring) by Angela Hunt, Angela Elwell Hunt - Free Book Online
Authors: Angela Hunt, Angela Elwell Hunt
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move again, I will return.”
The warrior’s face appeared to be set in stone, and he did not move when Fallon lifted his foot and moved away. For a moment Fallon considered asking the warrior to cut the tongs of leather that bound him, but knew he’d be pressing the warrior too far. ‘Twas one thing to defeat an enemy, ‘twas another to humiliate him.
And so, running as if the hounds of hell were giving chase, Fallon ran eastward through the woods. In that direction lay the ocean, the source of his help, if help was to be found at all.
Gilda understood very little of what had happened to her. Fallon, whom she loved and trusted, had taken her from her home to a place where Indians danced and children ran naked and she and Noshi played hide and seek in the forest. Then other Indians came and tied their hands and marched them far away to another village. Noshi and Fallon were with her for a moment, then they disappeared.
She mourned for days with tears and temper tantrums that the other women could not staunch, then a young girl of about Fallon’s age came into the hut. She did not try to soothe or scold, but merely sat on a grass mat and watched as Gilda cried and beat her fists upon the ground. When Gilda finally lay exhausted, the older girl smiled. “I am Matoaka,” she said, her eyes shining in friendliness. “But my father calls me Pocahontas because I like to play.”
Gilda lifted her head. “I want Noshi and Fallon,” she cried stubbornly, her fists still clenched. “I want to go home.”
“Your home is with me now,” Pocahontas said, standing. From a basket at her side she held up a rabbit skin, beautifully embroidered on one side, thick with fur on the other. “And I have made this skirt for you. I shall call you Numees, because from this day you will be my sister.”
“My name is Gilda,” she protested, her temper rising again. But a colorful design of houses, corn, and rain danced across the beautiful skin in Pocahontas’ arms . . .
“Let me wrap this around you,” Pocahontas said, moving closer. In a moment she had lifted the dirty linen dress from Gilda’s shoulders, then she carefully wrapped the embroidered fur around Gilda’s waist and fastened it with a pin made from the antlers of a deer.
Gilda stopped crying long enough to take a few practice steps in the lush garment.
Seven
Fallon Bailie
When Heaven is about to confer a great office
on any man, it first exercises his mind with suffering,
and his sinews and bones with toil.
—Mencius
Chapter One
The river carried them away.
The little girl woke with a sharp tingling in her arm and shifted uncomfortably between the side of the canoe and the soft, plump body of her playmate. Noshi still snored gently beside her, but Fallon lay awake, his blue eyes wide and alert under the thin grass mat that covered them in the canoe.
“I’m hungry,” Gilda announced, looking to Fallon. At thirteen, he had often been entrusted with the care of the two younger children, and Gilda was accustomed to his careful authority. “Are we done with the hiding game?”
Fallon did not answer, but lay his finger across his lips and carefully stretched his long legs out toward the bow of the canoe. A shaft of bright morning sunlight fell upon his freckled face as he gingerly lifted a corner of the woven grass mat, and Gilda saw him squint as he sniffed the air outside.
“Nothing,” he whispered, a satisfied smile flitting across his face. “Mayhap we can land the canoe here.”
With the inbred caution of one who had lived a lifetime in the wilderness, Fallon turned onto his stomach and slowly rose upon his knees. The canoe rocked gently in the water and the motion woke Noshi, who opened his eyes and thrust his thumb into his mouth. “Where’s Mama?” he mumbled around the thumb, his green eyes still heavy with sleep.
“You two stay under the mat,” Fallon whispered, dragging
The warrior’s face appeared to be set in stone, and he did not move when Fallon lifted his foot and moved away. For a moment Fallon considered asking the warrior to cut the tongs of leather that bound him, but knew he’d be pressing the warrior too far. ‘Twas one thing to defeat an enemy, ‘twas another to humiliate him.
And so, running as if the hounds of hell were giving chase, Fallon ran eastward through the woods. In that direction lay the ocean, the source of his help, if help was to be found at all.
Gilda understood very little of what had happened to her. Fallon, whom she loved and trusted, had taken her from her home to a place where Indians danced and children ran naked and she and Noshi played hide and seek in the forest. Then other Indians came and tied their hands and marched them far away to another village. Noshi and Fallon were with her for a moment, then they disappeared.
She mourned for days with tears and temper tantrums that the other women could not staunch, then a young girl of about Fallon’s age came into the hut. She did not try to soothe or scold, but merely sat on a grass mat and watched as Gilda cried and beat her fists upon the ground. When Gilda finally lay exhausted, the older girl smiled. “I am Matoaka,” she said, her eyes shining in friendliness. “But my father calls me Pocahontas because I like to play.”
Gilda lifted her head. “I want Noshi and Fallon,” she cried stubbornly, her fists still clenched. “I want to go home.”
“Your home is with me now,” Pocahontas said, standing. From a basket at her side she held up a rabbit skin, beautifully embroidered on one side, thick with fur on the other. “And I have made this skirt for you. I shall call you Numees, because from this day you will be my sister.”
“My name is Gilda,” she protested, her temper rising again. But a colorful design of houses, corn, and rain danced across the beautiful skin in Pocahontas’ arms . . .
“Let me wrap this around you,” Pocahontas said, moving closer. In a moment she had lifted the dirty linen dress from Gilda’s shoulders, then she carefully wrapped the embroidered fur around Gilda’s waist and fastened it with a pin made from the antlers of a deer.
Gilda stopped crying long enough to take a few practice steps in the lush garment.
Seven
Fallon Bailie
When Heaven is about to confer a great office
on any man, it first exercises his mind with suffering,
and his sinews and bones with toil.
—Mencius
Chapter One
The river carried them away.
The little girl woke with a sharp tingling in her arm and shifted uncomfortably between the side of the canoe and the soft, plump body of her playmate. Noshi still snored gently beside her, but Fallon lay awake, his blue eyes wide and alert under the thin grass mat that covered them in the canoe.
“I’m hungry,” Gilda announced, looking to Fallon. At thirteen, he had often been entrusted with the care of the two younger children, and Gilda was accustomed to his careful authority. “Are we done with the hiding game?”
Fallon did not answer, but lay his finger across his lips and carefully stretched his long legs out toward the bow of the canoe. A shaft of bright morning sunlight fell upon his freckled face as he gingerly lifted a corner of the woven grass mat, and Gilda saw him squint as he sniffed the air outside.
“Nothing,” he whispered, a satisfied smile flitting across his face. “Mayhap we can land the canoe here.”
With the inbred caution of one who had lived a lifetime in the wilderness, Fallon turned onto his stomach and slowly rose upon his knees. The canoe rocked gently in the water and the motion woke Noshi, who opened his eyes and thrust his thumb into his mouth. “Where’s Mama?” he mumbled around the thumb, his green eyes still heavy with sleep.
“You two stay under the mat,” Fallon whispered, dragging
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