Across The River Read online

  I was looking in horror at him, as he spoke. There was no way I would ever consent to become a wife of the man who killed my parents. Only, I knew I had little choice in the matter.

  “You may not know this about the Lenape people, but they are not like our society, where women have no rights and are the property of their husbands or fathers. The Lenape, honor women. Women are the ones who run their tribes. They have more power than the men do.

  “When a young man gets married, he chooses a woman from another neighboring Lenape village, so as not to mix the blood too closely. Once they are married, he goes to his wife’s village. His wife’s mother and brother are more involved with raising his children than he is. If it is the daughter, she brings her husband to her mother’s family, where her uncle is more involved with teaching her own sons the way of hunting and warfare since he would have more experience than a new father would.

  “Once they adopt you, which I feel they intend to do, you will be treated with more freedom and respect than you would ever get if you remained with your family in a white man’s world,” he predicted.

  I thought back on my own life, up to that point. The men always made the decisions, regardless of what the women thought. I remember many times, my mother bowing her head and doing as my father asked, regardless of her own wishes. A daughter could not get married unless she had her father’s consent, and he approved of her choice. Women could not vote or have a say in any matters, not even her own family matters. When a woman married, if she was wealthy, all her money went to her husband, which left her with little say as to how the money was spent. It kept her bound to her husband, no matter how he treated her, because she would have no way of supporting herself if she left him. He could beat her if he wished and no one would fault him for it. If they did get divorced, on rare occasions, the father had rights to all the children and the money, giving only what he deemed necessary to support her, until she married again. Only, few men would ever marry a divorced woman. Men could have mistresses, while a woman could be divorced for adultery if she took on a lover. I had learned at an early age, it was a man’s world. I wasn’t sure I would know how to act where women had more power than men did?

  I glanced up at Wolf, who was still examining my body through my dress, as though I was something he wished to purchase and wanted to make sure he was getting a fair deal. His hands were gentle, as he pressed and prodded what lay beneath my dress in an examination of the goods he was thinking of calling his own at some point in the future. I sat stiffly, submitting to his curiosity. Wolf grunted something to the Frenchman, and he asked me if I had bled before?

  My eyes opened wide, embarrassed by the personal question he insisted I answer. All I could do was nod, yes, and Wolf gave a broad smile when he saw me nodding.

  “It pleases him to know you are fully a woman,” the Frenchman informed me, and I cringed in response.

  Now, Wolf gave me a penetrating stare, stood up and walked away as though he had suddenly lost interest in me. I didn’t know whether to be grateful or not? I just didn’t want his hands touching me again, the way he had been doing. It had brought on too many conflicting emotions that I could not deal with at the time. Those same hands had scalped my parents and brother. I had watched those hands scrape the skin from their scalps and then hold the comb that caringly pulled the tangles out. I could never imagine those hands being the hands of a future husband, who would wish to make love to me. I wondered if he was even capable of loving me or any woman? His life seemed filled with violence and disdain towards the white man, even if he did honor the women in his tribe. Why would he want a white woman to become his wife, I wondered? Where would he find time to pay attention to a wife, between plundering and killing? Maybe it was all about building up the population of their tribe again. My children would have a part of him in them, and perhaps, that was all he cared about?

  I began thinking about the prospects of being adopted by those savage people. I had to come to the depressing conclusion that even if I escaped like Jamie was begging me to do, I had no family to go back to. All I would have is a house with blood all over the floor. I wondered who was staying at my house, now that we had been removed from it? Would they care that the floor had been soaked with blood? It was a very fine house, but even if I was able to go back to it, my mind would be filled with the memory of what transpired there, and I wondered if I would wish to remain?

  The life I faced now seemed bleak regardless of what the Frenchman said about women being in power. I didn’t want to become an Indian, only I don’t think anyone was going to ask me what I wanted, even if I was a woman. My Aunt Millie didn’t have a say about how the Lenape treated her. You had to be a member of the tribe first, I assumed.

  Wolf was watching me from a distance. The smell of food made my stomach lurch, and I couldn’t wait until the Frenchman finished cooking the salt pork and grits he was making. I could tell Jamie was anxious to eat too. When it was finished cooking, the Frenchman gave us as much as we wished to eat on one of the plates he had taken from our house. It was my mother’s best china. No more starving us and making us drink urine, I thought to myself, with great relief. It gave me hope that the future conditions of our journey would improve. It must have been because we could not stop along the way when they were escaping, that we were not allowed to eat or drink anything until now, I reasoned. Even the Indians and the Frenchmen had not eaten.

  When we finished eating, Wolf started removing his breech-cloth. The Frenchman told us we had to take our clothes off too. This frightened me. I thought Wolf was going to put me through some new trial to prove I was an acceptable wife for him. Instead, he took both Jamie and my hands and pulled us out in the stream, pushing us under the water. I wondered if he had decided to drown us but discovered he only wanted us to bathe. He also bathed, as he watched me intently, showing himself off to me, I assumed, to show me what a handsome man he was. The kind I would gladly marry, if he asked me, he must think. I watched as his war-paint was slowly removed from his body. He looked much better, then.

  Once he finished bathing, he had me stand up, and turn in a circle so he could look at me. Then he also turned in a circle for me to look at him. He acted with pride as he came closer to allow me to look at him as much as I pleased. In all my embarrassment, I was curious, so I did look at him. I had already seen his companions when they pulled their breech-cloths aside to abuse my aunt. They had all been anxious to take their turn, laughing and yapping as they compared themselves to each other before using what they took such pride in so despicably.

  “Why are you two doing that?” Jamie asked us, as he watched on.

  “He is deciding if we are worth keeping,” I told Jamie. “You know, like appraising a good-looking horse before buying it.”

  “Well, I don’t want him appraising me like that so I’m getting out of the water,” Jamie informed me, heading back to put his clothes on.

  Only when he got to the shore he started yelling that the Frenchman was burning our clothes. I rushed to the shore, where he was yelling, and the Frenchman was smiling.

  “Wolf doesn’t like your clothes,” he informed me. “He wishes you to dress the same as the people of his tribe, so they will see you are willing to be adopted when you arrive.

  “Did he bring his people’s clothes with him for us to wear?” I asked.

  “They do not wear much. Both men and women only wear breech-cloths in the summer. Sometimes the women wear short skirts, but no top. They wear capes in the winter and the men wear leggings. Sometimes the women wear leggings the same as the braves, to keep their legs from getting scratched, or longer skirts in the winter to keep their legs warm. There is not much distinction between women’s wear and men’s wear since they can dress as they please. They are all equal in that way.

  “Are you telling me I have to wear a breech-cloth like Wolf and no top?” I wailed.

  “You have been raised with modesty, but the Indians do not understand that concept. T
hey are used to looking at each other’s bodies. They are not ashamed of how they look. They are proud of it. That is why Wolf showed himself off to you. He didn’t like having to feel through your clothes to see what you actually looked like. Now he can look upon you and not feel frustrated for the lack of a better view.”

  I stood shivering as I covered myself while speaking to the Frenchman. He merely laughed and raised his eyebrows at me.

  “Wolf will help you with the breech-cloth,” he smiled, pointing to Wolf, who was waiting for us.

  Wolf had pulled two pieces of cloth and two sashes from a pouch. He gave one piece of cloth with the sash to Jamie. Then he beckoned me to come to him. I obeyed because I knew if I didn’t, he may try to punish me. His hands fumbled with the cloth, as he pulled it up between my legs and then tied the sash around it, letting the ends fall over the sash. I felt naked, with my young breasts exposed to both him and the Frenchman’s view. Jamie seemed pleased to dress as an Indian and was managing his own breech-cloth just fine.

  Wolf took great care to adjust the cloth around my waist. I think he was using it as an excuse to continue to touch me, feeling around my legs to make sure he had not pulled it up too tight, and making sure both ends fell in the same length, like any of that actually mattered. When he was satisfied, he reached his hand out and touched my breast, grunting in satisfaction.

  The touch of his hand affected me in the same way it had when he had fumbled through my clothes. He was being gentle, but I couldn’t erase the thought of how those same hands had taken the scalps of my parents and brother. I shivered as he touched me, but it didn’t seem to discourage him, as he continued to touch me in the same way he had done through my clothes. When he was satisfied, he brought me to some blankets he had laid upon the ground. He pushed me down and settled down beside me. He wanted to make sure I did not sneak away in the night, I thought, as he pulled my back against his bare chest and laid his hand across one of my breasts, holding me snugly in place.

  The Frenchman made Jamie sleep with him, to make sure he stayed put. I did not think that Jamie would try to run away by himself or he would have done it by now.

  I could not sleep as the feel of Wolf’s warm hand hovered over my breast, while the touch of his fingers, moving against my skin, distracted me. The sensation was pleasant and frightening at the same time. I had never been touched by anyone but my mother when she bathed me as a small child. It had been years since that had happened, though.

  From the point of his touch, warmth seemed to leap out throughout my body, expanding outward from his hand. The feel of Wolf’s breath against my neck sent shivers over my skin, and Goosebumps kept cropping up constantly with every breath he took. The warmth of his skin against my bare back felt unfamiliar and yet comforting in some abstract way. If I dared move, he clutched me all the tighter, causing me to feel him pressing firmly against me, the thin material of my own breech-cloth along with his, the only separation between us.

  I tried to take deep, calming breaths, while he began to rock me slowly against him, the movement taking on a soothing rhythm which I found myself responding to, as I naturally began moving with him. While my breath began to relax, I could feel him clutching me even tighter, his strong fingers pressing me closer to him as though he couldn’t get close enough. I found myself melding against him, caught up in the way he pressed me so tightly until I felt I was an extension of him and the soothing movement, as he rocked me into calm acceptance. I was too tired to think or reason.

  All I wanted to do was escape into sleep since we had been forced to travel both day and night. Only every time I started to drift off to sleep, my nightmares would start to jump out and fill me with fright, as I relived the scene of my aunt being raped by the Indians. The feel of this Indian’s arm pressing me to him, holding me so tightly, caused me to believe I was the one being raped with no escape, and I was startled awake by my own crying out in fear.

  Took-seat, pushed my damp hair from my forehead and murmured something in his own language. Then he merely held me snugly against him once again. The rocking motion had ceased. He seemed content. I lay feeling confused and yet somehow accepting of his attempt to calm me from my nightmare. He was having an unexplainable tender effect on me, which I thought I should feel ashamed about for some reason. After all, he was a wild heathen who had killed my family and could kill me just as easily.

  CHAPTER TWO

  I woke in the night to feel Wolf’s hand slipping beneath my breech-cloth. I stiffened as he proceeded to examine what he most likely assumed to be potential wife material. Only I realized I was at his mercy, a quality I did not believe his kind possessed. Therefore, I had no choice in the matter. I felt shocked, yet surprised as he proceeded to coax my body into submission at his persistent touch. I marvled at his boldness, like he knew what he was doing and as he continued, I realized he did. I wanted to feel repulsed, only instead, I felt a whimper escape my lips as an unexpected sensation began to spread throughout my body, rendering me helpless and yearning in a way I had not expected. The sound of my whimper seemed to give Wolf a certain satisfaction and I felt his efforts intensify, turning my whimpers into a gasp of amazement as the sky started to fall about me, shattering all my resistance in a shimmer of unbidden stardust and foreign wonder. Wolf gave a low murmur of approval, and took my hand, slipping it beneath his breech-cloth in return.

  I let out a cry of startled shock, but Wolf put his finger over my mouth and I tried to control my fear. He placed my hand over him, firmly showing me what he wished of me. At first, I resisted and then became curious, so I complied. When he discovered I was no longer trying to balk, he began touching me again, only this time we were facing each other and I discovered that what I was doing pleased him, and what he was doing, also pleased me. It was like an exchange, and now I was participating willingly as the effect became its own reward. It all seemed forbidden, and yet gave me a sense of subtle power over him in a way I had not had until then. I knew he was feeling the same pleasure he had brought out in me and for unknown reasons I accepted it as part of what was expected, now that I was his captive. Without my cooperation, he could not experience that pleasure. As long as I kept him contented, I felt he would treat me fairly.

  A new awakening had come over me. I was learning how life worked and how unexpected pleasure could come, even when I had not wished it. After that, though, I did wish it. At the same time, it was a tool I felt I could use to my own advantage.

  I believe Wolf wished it too. He pulled me to him and enfolded me in his arms, my bare breast plastered against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart as he hugged me to him. The closeness had a bonding effect I was having a hard time accepting. I did not want to be bonded to this heathen. Yet the memory of the tenderness of his touch was seeping into my senses, taking over my better judgment.

  By morning, I felt familiar with him. It was like we had no secrets, even though we didn’t know each other and came from two different worlds. Our bodies desired the same awakening, and it was the only language we could share where we each knew what the other was feeling.

  This time, we bathed with our breech-cloths on so they could be washed out, and then keep us cool while we continued walking. Often, Wolf placed his hand on my shoulder as we walked. He would turn and smile at me unexpectedly. I was trying to forget about the way his hands had scalped my parents and instead, remember how they felt when he was touching me. I knew that unwanted bond was starting to grow between us and I was not so anxious to escape as I had wanted to before. Perhaps life with the Indians would not be as bad as I thought it would be, I told myself trying to get used to my captor and his plans for me.

  We picked berries and other eatable plants to add to our supply as we came upon foliage that could be safely eaten, while we tramped through the woods. Eventually, we came to a point in our trek where the Frenchman parted ways. I had never learned his name and I didn’t care what it was, anyway. He said he had to join his troop and Wol
f would take me the rest of the way to his village.

  Now it was left up to me to cook, but I was a good cook and Took-seat acted pleased with the meals I fixed. I had a better imagination than the Frenchman when it came to fixing a meal. My lips called him Took-seat, since it was the only Indian word I knew the meaning to, but in my head, I thought of him as Wolf, a wild unpredictable animal who could not really be trusted. Wolf was happy to discover my talent at cooking. Even Jamie seemed happier and Wolf took time to show him how to shoot arrows, which excited Jamie. I think he was looking forward to becoming an Indian now. I realized he too was starting to bond to Wolf.

  Jamie’s and my skin was becoming tan from its exposure to the sun, and I think we looked a little like Indians ourselves, the longer we tramped through the woods.

  At night Wolf and I continued to explore each other’s bodies, causing the other to gasp and murmur happily in contentment each time we reached that realm of completeness. Our curiosity expanded as we discovered more ways to please the other until our bodies were no longer the mystery they had once been. However, Wolf never tried doing to me what his companions had done to my aunt, and I appreciated that he restrained himself in that manner. I supposed he was saving that for when I became his wife, and on some unexplainable level, it pleased me.

  When we bathed in the stream, we shrieked and laughed, splashing happily together. I would jump on his back, and he would twirl me around and then come crashing down into the water with me. Sometimes, Jamie joined us and we were like children playing children’s games. There was no one to yell at us for doing something unacceptable. There was no one frowning at our outright immodesty. There was no one trying to teach us the dos and don’ts when a girl and boy were together. We were free to do as we pleased without restraint. I had never felt so free before.