Free Spirited by Nancy Holder Page B

Then he raised a brow as he turned to Wusamequin. “Do you agree to this, my son?”
    Wusamequin couldn’t bear the prospect of Mahwah’s living in Sasious’s wigwam. He knew that the violent war chief would beat her, and take cruel advantage of her; soon all that was beautiful would be ground into dust.
    He said, “The white skin woman fought bravely today. She was fierce when the women and children counted coup on her.”
    Oneko chuckled. “She was a badger.”
    “That means she’ll be a good slave,” Sasious replied. “She isn’t like most of the white skin women, weaker than an infant. She trekked well back to the village.”
    “She did not run, as the wounded soldiers did,” Wusamequin added grimly.
    “But we caught them all. There were no survivors,” Sasious reminded him. “My warriors achieved that.”
    Oneko crossed his arms. “Let us leave it at this: I’llsearch for
les Français
until the next moon, which is Cold Moon. We’ll take that time to seek counsel from the spirits concerning the fate of the white skin woman, and when we have their answer, we’ll follow their advice. But we are agreed that the grayhair shall die if we find no one to purchase him.”
    Sasious said, “Agreed.”
    Wasumaquin thought of the grief he had felt upon losing his father. Mahwah’s spirit would be crushed. But he lowered his head and said, “Agreed.” It was not his problem that her father was a Yangee. It was hers.
    Oneko gestured to the captives and said, “I’ll put them away again in their wigwam.”
    “They should be fed,” Wusamequin observed. “They haven’t eaten.” At the surprised expressions on the other men’s faces, he said, “They will be more highly prized if they are well. They will be well if they are treated well.”
    “You have a healer’s heart,” Oneko said. Then he turned to the waiting crowd, which was growing restive.
    “People of the River,” he began, “I wish to sell these Yangees to
les Français.”
    There was a roar of disapproval—led, Wusamequin noted, by Odina and her plump sister, Keshkecho. He wondered if her anger was for his sake: after all, the Yangees had killed his woman. Here was a chance to exactly even the score, by killing one of theirs.
    His heart was troubled. He had no idea why he cared so much about the fate of this enemy. Sasiouswas wise to doubt him. He doubted himself.
    He stood beside Sasious as Oneko led the People down the path of his decision. Sasious was their war leader; Wusamequin was their medicine man—the two men formed a picture of placid solidarity with their sachem. But as his look shifted to Mahwah, his heart was tormented. He wondered if she had bewitched him in some way to make him falter thus.
    He needed to confer with Great Bear. His guide would help sort out the way of his heart in this.
    He was startled out of his reverie as Oneko said to Sasious, “Choose a strong warrior to guard them.”
    Mingled among the other villagers, the braves straightened, awaiting the honor of being selected. The captives had been declared valuable property, and standing watch over them would aid the tribe. Hence, doing so would enhance the reputation of whomever was selected.
    “Wematin,” Sasious said, gesturing to the young man. Wematin swaggered from the circle and approached the burning stakes, where the captives were still secured. He barked orders at two more braves, and the trio began untying Mahwah and Stevens.
    The other villagers registered their disapproval with hisses and raised fists. But no one laid a hand on Mahwah or her father as they were escorted from the tribal circle.
    Wusamequin stayed as he was, watching with a stone face.
    Her people murdered your family
, he reminded himself.
She
is
nothing to you. And it would be an easy thing to give her to Sasious. Oneko said to give him a thing of value
.
    She is nothing to me.
    But as the three muscular braves grouped around her and her father, and she disappeared from his gaze,