Free Blackbird by Nancy Henderson Page B

stay, you know.”  She leaned toward him and pointed her finger in his face.  “No--I tell you what, Joshua will come find me, and when he does, you will be sorry!”
     
    At that, Adahya laughed.
     
    “He will.”  She glared at him.  “And when he finds me, he will kill you.”
     
    It was Adahya’s turn to lean forward.  He captured her eyes with his and held her there.  They were defiant and black, and they reminded her of Joshua’s sermon about the sinner’s descent into hell.
     
    “I will tell you what your savior will do.”  His voice was hard, commanding.  “If he finds you--which he will not because your Robert will tell him you have gone to Fort Ontario--but if he did, he would not live to see the dawn.  Your dear, beloved Reverend would die a slow, torturous death by the hands of my people.  You are Adahya’s woman now, and I will do everything in my power to keep you with me.”
     
    Katherine stared at him, and as a long silence passed between them, her hopes slowly sank into a pit of despair.  He was right.  Joshua had no idea where she was, and a part of her wondered if he would bother to look for her at all.  Was this her fate; the same fate from God that Joshua spoke of in his sermons?  Did God hate her that much?  Surely God was not that cruel.  He would not leave her here.
     
    Joshua.  She might never see him again.
     
    As if he sensed her dejection, Adahya cupped her chin in his hand.  “Adahya lost his first woman against his will.  He will not lose another.”
     
    Katherine pulled away from his touch.  She wanted to run, but she knew she would not even make it to the door before he stopped her.  Confusion and desperation battled within her, but she was too exhausted to do anything about it.
     
    Her valise containing Joshua’s documents was leaning against the far wall of the lodge.  She had thought it been left in the woods when Adahya bound her wrists.  Relief washed over her.  Those documents were the last remains of her old life.  Of Joshua.  Rising to her knees, she pulled the valise toward her and clutched it to her bosom like a life net to her fading existence.
     
    As if sensing her need to be alone, Adahya got up and began adjusting the smoke hole in the roof.  She watched him stoke the fire, working the coals to a steady glow.  His movements were slow, deliberate, as if he were purposely giving her time to be alone with her thoughts.
     
    He hung a copper kettle on a hook suspended over the fire.  “Do you like tea?”
     
    “You have tea?  Real tea?”
     
    “Real tea.”
     
    Katherine edged toward him, her dark mood momentarily lifted.  She had not had tea since Mama died.  The beverage had been a scarce commodity ever since the country’s supply had been dumped into Boston Harbor and the port closed last year.
     
    He found two pewter mugs from beneath a pile of iron traps and fishing baskets and set them in front of her.  From a tree gourd, he poured a glob of some sort of sticky substance in each cup.
     
    “Watda.”  He watched her cautiously.  “Sugar syrup from the maple.”
     
    Next, he added a pinch of ground powder to each cup.  “Sassafras root for flavor.”
     
    When the water had boiled, he poured the liquid into each cup.  He passed her a pewter spoon to stir the concoction.  “It is not the white man’s tea, but it is real tea just the same.”
     
    He watched her sip the drink before he tasted his own.
     
    “It does taste like tea.”  She took another sip.  “Not quite the same, but it tastes wonderful.”
     
    He seemed pleased.  “Are you hungry?”
     
    Katherine nodded, suddenly realizing that she was starving.  Adahya rummaged through his supplies.  He hung a kettle of water over the fire and began throwing things into the pot, naming off each vegetable and meat in his native language.  It was as if he was trying to teach her the Mohawk dialect.  She mentally committed each item to memory,