~ Memories ~

by

Janet Cooper

When Benjamin stopped the wagon a few feet from where Luke stood, the Lenape strode over. While Luke stared at the wagon filled with corn, Sarah let her eyes feast on him. He was nothing like the man she had seen last night at the inn--even his hairstyle had changed. If she were a Quaker lass from the Eighteenth Century, his clothing, or lack thereof, might have embarrassed her. She was glad she had no such inhibition and enjoyed viewing his bare chest. Although Sarah sensed Benjamin’s eyes on her, she refused to look in his direction, fearing the old gentleman would condemn her forthright manner. Instead, she continued to survey Luke Keenan.

He wore moccasins and a breechcloth held in place with a deerskin belt. Her gaze traveled down the length of his body. The strong muscles of his legs and especially of his upper thighs caught and held her attention. Above his slender waist, no clothing concealed his well-defined assets. His broad shoulders and smooth biceps proclaimed his masculinity and heightened his appeal. Black marks scarred his strong face, but in no way deterred from his good looks. Enjoying her perusal, she noted that his compelling, secretive eyes were still as she remembered them. He looked at her.

Having been caught examining him, she tried to cover her less than proper scrutiny by saying, “We heard what happened. Since we have extra provisions, father wanted to share our bounty with thee.” Although she tried, her attention returned to his head. Instead of the thick, black mane of hair, only a small, scalp lock remained. The new style suited him, yet she wondered, Why had he cut and shaved his head?

“We will pay,” Luke said, his eyes hard.

“Nay,” Benjamin replied. “In times of need, Friends give.”

“I am not a member of your society,” Luke countered.

“Thou and thy people are children of God.”

“Even if we call God, Kitanitowet?”

“Names mean nothing to God,” Benjamin responded, “only our acts.”

Luke hesitated. He looked from Benjamin to Sarah, then to the wagonload of corn. After a moment of hesitation, he said, “I accept your gift for my people. Now, I am in your debt. If you need me or any Lenape, simply ask and we will fulfill your request.”

“That is not necessary,” Benjamin said, as Sarah climbed down off the seat.

“For my people and myself it is.” He signaled to three young lads who had drawn near. “Unload the cart and take care of the horses.” The boys led the wagon near the fenced-in meadow and began working.

A same white-haired Lenape that Sarah had seen earlier approached. The deerskin jacket and matching leggings almost matched the color of his complexion. His face announced his kinship with Luke, only their ages and Luke’s lighter skin differed.

“XhanXhan,” Luke said, “may I present Benjamin Stone and his daughter Sarah? I broke my journey at their tavern last evening.”

The older man’s pitch black eyes closed momentarily as if acknowledging them. Age lines crossed his chestnut colored face, enhancing his regal status.

“Benjamin Stone, Sarah Stone,” Luke continued, “White Owl, my grandfather. They have brought a gift, XhanXhan.” He motioned toward the wagon.

“We appreciate your generosity and your coming,” White Owl said. “Since the hour grows late, will you join our feast and stay the night?”

Before Benjamin could answer and possibly refuse, Sarah said, “We will be honored.”

White Owl glanced at her, and then looked to her father for confirmation.

Benjamin smiled. “As my daughter has said, we are pleased to accept thy generosity.”

“Silver Wolf will act as your host. He will explain our ceremony.”

Wolf gritted his teeth. He did not want any whites watching their funeral rites. Too often, he had heard their laughter and experienced the contempt in their voices when they observed his people and their rituals. So far, Sarah had not shown such disrespect, but the idea that she might tore at him. He would rather she left and he remembered her as he had seen her last night.

When Luke failed to respond, Sarah said, “Does thou mind?”

He glanced at White Owl, his jaw stiff and unyielding. A moment later, he said, “What my grandfather asks of me, I will do.”

She would probably never have another opportunity to see and participate in an authentic Lenape burial ceremony. Despite Benjamin’s disapproval, Sarah refused to allow him to spoil her evening. With great interest she observed the comings and goings of the people.

White Owl walked closer to the stone mound. Traces of burnt wood and the heavy smell of a recent fire pitted the freshly raked ground and scarred the air. Half-buried boulders formed the skeleton of a barn. In the center, a stone pyramid rose. A freshly cut tree lay on the ground directly in front, appearing to protect the site.

Sarah and Benjamin edged closer. She glanced at Luke, hoping for an explanation.

“My father was murdered here.”

The quiet way he spoke the words shocked her. His impassive face showed no emotion. “I am sorry,” she said.

“Thou has our prayers,” Benjamin added, solemnly.

“Thank you,” said White Owl.

“The British soldiers?” Sarah asked.

“Yes. One of Cornwallis’ patrols.”

“I am not surprised. He is known for his cruelty.”

Everyone stared at her.

Oops, she thought. His cutthroat reputation didn’t really develop until the southern campaign--several years in the future. “I... I have heard tales.”

The curious looks remained focused on her.

She flushed, unable to think of any way to dig herself out of her mistake.

“Would you feel the same if colonists had done this?” Luke asked.

Happy to get her foot out of the swamp her loose lips had dug for her, she said, “Yes. Senseless actions are reprehensible regardless of who is responsible.”

“My daughter is right,” Benjamin said. “All violence is appalling.”

White Owl nodded, and then turned toward the pyramid. “Silver Wolf, I see you have selected an oak. You chose well,” White Owl said, his gaze never straying from the grave.

“I am pleased that you approve.” Luke glanced at Sarah, then Benjamin. “Beginning tomorrow, I will strip the bark and begin carving the deeds of my father on the pole.”

A small boy careened into Luke’s legs. His actions reminded Sarah of her neighbor’s boy and her real life. When would she see her friends again? A small lump filled her throat.

“NoX han,” the lad said.

Luke took the child’s hand. “We have guests. You must speak English.”

The child frowned.

“May I present my son, Little Turtle?” Luke made the introductions.

Her heart dropped as disappointment overwhelmed her. “And thy wife?” she asked, almost fearing the answer.

He glanced at the heavens. “With the stars.”

“I am sorry.” How terrible to have lost a wife and a father, she thought.

“It was a long time ago.” Luke said, in the expressionless tone he used so often.

Luke fit her image of the stoic Indian. Did he ever relax and let his emotions show? she wondered. Had his marriage been a political one? Did Lenape do that? Or had he married for love?