Page 25 of The Condemned (Echoes from the Past #6)

EIGHTEEN

Virginia Colony

Mary eased her back and held up her hand to shield her eyes.

The sun was blazing in a cloudless sky, the air so thick with moisture she could hardly draw breath, and it was only mid-morning.

She leaned on the wooden handle of the hoe and allowed herself a moment to rest. Her linen chemise clung to her body, and her scalp was uncomfortably damp.

She’d never experienced anything like this in England, and, according to Simon, the worst was yet to come.

Mary cast a critical eye over the kitchen garden.

She’d weeded and watered it. Now it was time to go inside and begin the daily chore of grinding dried corn into flour to make bread.

Well, the corn could wait, Mary decided.

She needed to cool off before Travesty found her insensible in the vegetable patch.

Mary cleaned the hoe and returned it to its proper place.

Tools were precious and not easily replaced.

She then turned her footsteps toward the creek.

She should have told Travesty she was leaving but was afraid the woman would offer to come along.

Mary was grateful for the company, given that she would have spent her days entirely on her own if it weren’t for Travesty’s presence, but at times, Mary thought solitude might have been preferable.

Travesty was a hard worker and still shouldered most of the household chores, but there was something in her veiled gaze and the sharp angle of her shoulders that spoke of bone-deep anger.

And then there was the silence. Mary wasn’t someone who needed to indulge in a constant stream of chatter, but Travesty went for hours without saying a word, fueling Mary’s reluctance to initiate conversation.

They each had their routine and followed it.

The only thing that seemed to paint a smile on Travesty’s disenchanted countenance was the sight of Simon coming through the door in the evening.

It was like the sun coming out after days of rain and lighting up the now-clear sky, except that it didn’t last. Travesty seemed ashamed of her regard and worked hard to hide it, not only from Simon, but from John and Mary as well.

Mary stopped when she entered the cooling shade of the trees and took a deep breath.

Here, in the woods, the air was cleaner and fresher, the harsh glare of the sun blocked by the nearly impenetrable lushness of summer leaves.

The wood was filled with the trilling of birds and the stealthy sounds of small animals moving through the underbrush.

The creek gurgled invitingly, its sun-dappled surface sparkling like a band of liquid gold.

Mary stepped out of her shoes, rolled down her hose, and pulled off her cap, releasing her damp hair.

The soft grass beneath her toes felt cool and refreshing, and suddenly she knew she wouldn’t be bathing in her chemise.

This was John’s land. They had no close neighbors, and Travesty was busy preparing dinner for the men.

Who’d know that Mary had taken a dip without the protective cover of a layer of fabric?

She untied her skirt and petticoat, unlaced her bodice, and pulled the sweat-soaked chemise over her head.

Mary dashed toward the creek before she had a chance to change her mind and feel embarrassed by her brazenness.

The cool water embraced her, forcing a sigh of pleasure from her parched lips.

She took a deep breath and sank beneath the surface, allowing the creek to flow over her as her hair floated around her head, spreading above her like a lily pad.

She finally came back up and pushed the wet ropes of hair out of her eyes, but the rest of her remained below the surface, enjoying the cool water flowing over her skin. She looked up at the shafts of light piercing the canopy of leaves and closed her eyes, inhaling the piney scent of the forest .

This is a perfect moment . The unbidden thought came into Mary’s head. A perfect, unspoiled moment .

She didn’t have any soap but washed as best she could and rinsed out her hair. It hung nearly to her waist when she finally emerged from the creek and reached for her clothes.

She hadn’t noticed him at first. He was so still as to appear to be a stout limb of the tree he stood beneath.

His gaze was fixed on her, his lips slightly parted, his arms at his sides.

Mary froze with terror. Her mouth went dry, and her extremities turned ice-cold as she backed toward the creek but then recalled that she was naked.

She snatched up her chemise and held it in front of her, her eyes never leaving the man’s face.

He hadn’t moved, but she felt the threat as keenly as if he were wielding a knife.

When the man finally shifted, Mary’s breath caught in her throat and a low scream escaped her lips.

She sounded like a frightened animal, sure it was about to die.

He held up both hands, palms outward, to show her he was unarmed.

It was only once he left the sanctuary of the tree that she realized she’d seen him before.

He was the Indian she’d seen on the way to Jamestown, the one with the gray eyes.

As he moved toward her, Mary squeezed her legs, afraid her bladder would let go in her terror.

“I won’t hurt you,” the man said. “You need not be afraid.”

Mary took another involuntary step back. Her mind had to be playing tricks on her. The man spoke perfect English.

“I will turn around and allow you to dress,” he offered, and turned his back.

When she’d seen him on the road to the settlement, he’d worn buckskin breeches, but today he wore only a clout that left his long, muscular legs bare.

His hair hung down his back and was almost as long as her own, and his face was devoid of any paint.

He’d been carrying a spear, but he’d left it propped against the tree, so he was nearly as naked and defenseless as she was, except that he was a muscular man who could overpower her easily if he chose to .

Mary hastily pulled on her chemise and petticoat. She fumbled with the laces of her bodice, her fingers clumsy and shaking as she tried to fasten it. She wondered if he’d pursue her if she ran, but she’d have to go right past him to get back to the cabin, so it wasn’t worth the risk.

He finally turned around slowly. He took in her garments and watched with some amusement as she pulled on her cap.

“You have beautiful hair,” he said. “Why do you cover it?”

“You are on my husband’s land,” Mary snapped, striving to regain some control over the situation.

“How can land and sky belong to anyone?”

Mary wasn’t sure what to say to that, so she tried a different tack, since he seemed in no hurry to be on his way. “You speak English.”

“Yes.”

“What is your name?”

The man said something quite unpronounceable to her English ears, then chuckled at her stupefied expression. “My name means ‘Walks Between Worlds.’” He hadn’t come any closer or looked like he meant her any harm, so Mary decided to give in to her natural curiosity.

“What an odd name. Why do they call you that?”

The Indian was about to explain when Travesty’s shrill cry filled the peaceful forest. “Mistress! Mary! Where are you?”

Mary turned in the direction of Travesty’s voice, partially glad she was no longer alone with this strange man and partially annoyed at the interruption.

She really did want to know about his name.

She turned her gaze back to him, but the man was gone.

He’d melted into the woods as quietly as he’d appeared .

“Praise the Lord you’re safe,” Travesty exclaimed as she burst through the trees. “I didn’t know what to think when I found you gone. I thought you’d been carried off by the savages.”

“Has that happened before?” Mary asked, suddenly realizing how close she’d come to this unspeakable fate.

Travesty shrugged. “Not that I know off, but one must always expect the worst from those heathen devils.”

“I needed to cool off,” Mary explained as she picked up her hose and stuck her feet into her shoes. “Does one ever get accustomed to this infernal heat?”

“I couldn’t say. I’ve yet to find out.”

Mary followed Travesty back to the cabin. Having nearly lost her mistress, Travesty was unusually forthcoming. “I don’t know what I’d tell the master if I couldn’t find you. He relies on me to keep you safe.”

“I can look after myself, Travesty.”

“I know you can, but I’ve been looking after him for so long, I suppose I think of it as my duty to look after his wife.”

“So, John has been a good master to you?” Mary asked.

She had no reason to think he hadn’t been, but wanted reassurance that she wasn’t wrong in her estimation of the man.

Many a master beat his servants. She knew that only too well after spending several years under Uncle Swithin’s roof and feeling the back of his hand against her face or the sting of his belt against her back.

She hadn’t seen John raise his voice or hand to Travesty, but he might have been unkind to her before Mary came.

“He saved me,” Travesty said, her voice soft with reverence.

“From what?”

“From certain death.” Travesty wiped her damp forehead with her sleeve and turned to face Mary.

“I was one of the first indentures to come out to Virginia. I’d never been out on the water before, much less in a great ship in the middle of a vast ocean.

They said I’d get my sea legs after a few days, but I fell ill and stayed ill for the whole of the crossing.

I could hardly keep anything down. After a fortnight, I was so weak I could barely raise my head to puke into the bucket. ”

“That must have been awful,” Mary said, knowing only too well how long and difficult the crossing had been.