Judith E French Read Free

best if ye call me Leah.” She extended a hand toward his battered face, then pulled it back. “I will tend your hurts when I can.”
    “You need not fear me m’la—Leah. I’ve never harmed a woman yet.” He exhaled softly. “So long as you don’t try to slice the hair from my head, I won’t start now.”
    “If you try to hurt me—if I utter a single cry—they”—she motioned toward the entrance—“would cut ye t’ pieces. Slowly . . . very slowly.” Her expression grew solemn. “Ye must believe me, Sky Eyes. I dinna trust ye—and I know ye dinna trust me, but I am your only hope of seeing tomorrow’s sunrise.”
    “Why?”
    She ignored his question. “Where were you two moons . . . two months ago?” she corrected. “Were you among the English soldiers who attacked the camp of our cousins the Delaware, beside the Sweet Water? Were you one of the white men who burned women and old people in their wigwams? Did you crush the heads of Delaware babies to save your musket balls?”
    Brandon’s mouth tasted of ashes. “No,” he replied honestly. “Two months ago I was in Annapolis, beside the Chesapeake, and I wish to God I was still there.”
    She stared at him intently for several minutes, then nodded. “Ye tell the truth. I’d know if ye lied.”
    “How would you know?”
    She sniffed daintily. “A liar gives off the scent of evil.” Moving behind him, she began to untie the leather thongs that bound his wrists. “Rub your hands together,” she ordered when he was free. She retreated to the far side of the fire. “Quick, before the pain comes.”
    He did as she told him, as common sense would decree, but the numbness in his hands gave way to agony as blood surged into his cramped fingers. Sweat broke out on his forehead, and he clenched his teeth together to hold back the moans that rose in his throat.
    “There has been peace between us and the English for two winters,” Leah said softly as she unhooked a basket from its peg along the far wall. “Most of the Delaware braves were hunting a bear. They thought the village was safe because many of the people in it had converted to Christianity. Forty-one were slain, forty-two if you count the unborn babe that was cut from his mother’s belly.” Her voice grew hard. “The English soldiers did not kill the young women right away. They left their bodies one by one beside the trail when they were done with them.”
    Brandon shut his eyes. “I tell you I was in Annapolis. I know nothing about this . . . this atrocity. I’m not a rapist, and I’m not a murderer.”
    “If I thought ye were, I would have lit the wood at your feet myself,” she answered coldly.
    He continued to rub his hands and wrists. The pain was easing now, the numbness slowly dissipating. “We heard nothing in the Chesapeake colonies about war on the frontier.”
    She made a small sound of derision. “Perhaps the death of forty-two savages is not important to the English king.”
    “You can’t blame me for what the soldiers did.”
    She sighed again. “No. And ye canna blame me for the warriors’ anger. In war, many suffer. Will ye weep for those four who were with you?”
    Brandon’s eyes snapped open. “Hayden, Lynch, and the others? They’re dead?”
    “Aye. They did not die well.”
    “Damn.” He shuddered inwardly. Scum they were and common thieves, but he’d not wished their deaths at the hands of these savages. He’d wanted to kill them himself; he’d fought, but there were just too many. He’d managed to land a few good punches to the ringleader’s face before they’d beaten him insensible. Brandon supposed that Lynch had carried the marks of his fists to his death. “I hired Lynch and the other three to guide me into this country. A man in Annapolis said they were experienced woodsmen.” Brandon shook his head slowly. “I was a fool to trust them. They jumped me when I was asleep, beat me, and left me for dead. They took the horses and the