Free Tea and Tomahawks by Leanore Elliott, Dahlia DeWinters Page A

men echoed across the swamp and the marshes.
    “We must go. The white man has come to claim what he believe is his.” Haiola pulled her up, thrust a cloth bag and a tomahawk into her hands. “Flee into the swamp with the others.”
    “What about you?” She reached for him.
    “We must fight them.” He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her lips. “Do not worry. I will find you. Stay with the others.” He brushed her cheek with his fingertips. “Now go, cha-hi-wa. I will see you soon.”
    She hurried with the crowd, taking the time to grab the hand of a frightened child and guide him to his mother. The pops of gunfire made her stomach cramp, but the high-pitched war whoops gave her courage. “Come on. We must move faster.” She covered her terror at leaving her husband’s side by giving others courage. What would she do if he were killed?
    At this point, she didn’t want to go back to her twentieth-century life. As odd as it may seem, given that she was used to luxuries, she was happier and more content than she had been over a hundred years in the future.
    Plus, if she did have to return, she would have to find a way to take Haiola with her.
    Mattie led the small group of women and children through the dense foliage of the Everglades, using the skills she’d learned from Haiola. While the thought of him separate from her seized her heart with a cold iron fist, she kept her charges moving.
    They walked along as silently as they could, communicating only in short whispers. She was beginning to feel optimistic about their chances when a group of four white men blocked the path in front of them.
    Her muscles locked, rendering her unable to speak.
    A child cried out, “Mama!”
    This spurred Mattie into action. “Run!”
    The small group scattered.
    She also turned and ran, hoping to draw the men away from the others. Saying a brief prayer for herself, she retraced her steps through the marsh.
    “Aye, she’s a runner, this one.” The men panted behind her, stumbling through the unfamiliar territory. “Split up, circle around. She should be easy to round up.”
    “We will see,” his partner answered. “This swamp is a terror to get through.”
    It was easy for her to lose them in the dark.
    Unable to find her, they bumbled off in another direction.
    Mattie held onto the rough bark of the cypress tree she was hiding behind, straining her ears for any further movement. From far off, she heard war whoop, accompanied by the dying yells of whom she hoped were her pursuers.
    Alone and lost, she checked the stars and began walking in a northerly direction. Haiola had told her many times that the deeper in the swamp she went, she would find another Seminole village, and they would take her in.
    The night was not kind. A hot, humid wind blew against her face and mosquitoes feasted on the back of her neck and bare arms. Would she be able to find another village, or stumble around until she ran into a hungry alligator?
    Mattie reached a clearing and sank to rest her racing heart. Clouds had gathered in the sky, obscuring her view of the stars, and she was no longer sure about the correct way to go. She held the tomahawk in a loose grip at her side, put an arm across her face and cried. She didn’t wish to go back to Richard, to her miserable life. Instead, she prayed to His-a-kit-a-mis-i she would find her Seminole husband again.
    The foliage to her right rustled, and she paused in her prayer. It could be an animal of any kind out there tonight. Resisting the urge to say, “Who’s there?” She pushed to her feet and staggered out of the clearing, away from the sound.
    Straight up against a warm, human body.
    Stifling a scream, she backed away two steps before she turned and fled back to the clearing. In her haste to flee, she slammed her shoulder into a tree, dropped the tomahawk and fell into the soft mud, biting her lip against the sudden pain.
    Behind her, there was a loud thud and a curse. He had tripped over