Read Online Judith E French by Moonfeather - Free Book Online

ground and examined his butchering job. To Leah’s dismay, there were several cuts in the deer hide other than those made by the bear. One front quarter of the venison was ruined, but both hindquarters were virtually untouched.
    “At home, we have huntsmen to do this sort of thing,” Brandon explained.
    “Ye—you dinna have to apologize.”
    His jawline firmed. “I didn’t intend it as an apology, merely a statement of fact.”
    “No matter. We’ll wrap the meat in the hide. Your load will be easier than yesterday. I’d not linger here longer than we have to.”
    “And your Seneca? What if he comes back?”
    Leah sliced the deerhide into pieces and began to divide up the venison. “A man alone could be a scout or an outcast from his tribe.”
    “We’re hunting. Why couldn’t he be doing the same?”
    “This is Shawnee land. An Iroquois hunting here is hunting scalps.”
    “You said Seneca.” He squatted down beside her and helped her make a bundle of part of the meat.
    “The Seneca belong to the Iroquois League of Nations. Sometimes. You never ken what a Seneca will do.”
    “Like a woman.”
    She ignored his comment. “One Seneca I can deal with. A war party would be verra bad. We dinna wish t’ meet them without Shawnee warriors at our back.”
    “But why would this Indian shoot once, then run away?” Brandon persisted.
    “I dinna ken, Brandon mine, and that is what frightens me.”
    They set out without eating; both of them carried a portion of the venison on their backs in packs made of the animal’s hide. A short distance from the stream, Leah stopped to cut off a young sapling. As they continued walking, she stripped the bark from the wood and shaped a crude bow with her knife.
    “It will not shoot as well or as far as my hickory bow,” she said, “but it will give us more than our empty hands to fight with if we do come up against an enemy war party.”
    Brandon rolled his eyes; it was obvious to Leah that he had little faith in her hastily constructed bow of green wood. She couldn’t blame him; green wood had no strength. She paused again long enough to notch the tips and tie the bowstring, then slung it over her back, and they continued walking.
    I should have armed Brandon when we left the village, she thought. Then we wouldn’t be defenseless. But she hadn’t trusted him—she still didn’t. She trusted him more than she trusted the Iroquois, she admitted to herself. One thing was certain, she’d not be taken alive. The Iroquois were rumored to have adopted the white man’s disgusting habit of rape. She’d fight as long and hard as she could, but if capture seemed imminent, she wouldn’t hesitate to take her own life. In that case, Brandon would have to look after his own skin.
    They entered a section of very old oak forest. The massive trees formed a canopy overhead, nearly shutting out the light. There was almost no underbrush, and the walking was much easier. Brandon lengthened his stride and caught up with Leah.
    “You’re a widow.”
    “Aye.”
    “What happened to your husband?”
    “Among the Shawnee, it is not good manners to speak of the dead.”
    “We’re not among the Shawnee. You haven’t even told me his name.”
    She felt her cheeks grow hot. “I canna speak his name. That be an even greater taboo.” She walked faster.
    “You’re educated, Leah. Surely you don’t believe in primitive superstitions. How did he die?”
    “An Englishman shot him.”
    “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”
    “Why should you be sorry if you didn’t kill him?”
    He stopped and caught hold of her arm. “Leah, don’t be like this. Last night we—”
    She stared up into his sky eyes. “I be not in mourning for my son’s father, if that what ye—you—wish t’ know. We were nay good for each other. If he had lived, I would have divorced him.”
    “Somehow, I didn’t think you were.” He let go of her arm and brushed her chin with the tip of his index finger. “I’ve