Candace McCarthy Read Online Free PDF Page B

head bowed as he chanted a prayer to the rhythm of his turtle-shell rattle. As Joanna moved farther into the wigwam, the shaman, sensing her presence, stopped chanting to identify the visitor.
    Lowering his rattle, Raven Wing turned and approached. Joanna made an effort to smile at him. The shaman paused within three feet, his dark eyes narrowing as he studied her.
    As she waited for some sign that the shaman remembered her, Joanna searched her memory for the proper greeting. As the words continued to elude her, she watched as Raven Wing’s expression changed.
    “Autumn Wind?” The shaman grinned when she nodded. “You have been gone a long time, my daughter.”
    Joanna returned his grin. “You know me, Raven Wing.”
    “You look the same yet brighter, like the moon on a clear night.” Raven Wing’s English was excellent.
    “You are the only one besides Mary and Rising Bird who recognized me,” Joanna said.
    “My people said good-bye to a little girl. They did not expect to see that child become a woman.” Raven Wing smiled at her with affection as he gestured toward Wild Squirrel’s bed. “He would want to know that you have come to see him.”
    “Will he get well?” Joanna asked.
    The shaman’s expression sobered. “He is not fighting the sickness as he should. I do not know what else to do.”
    “May I speak to him?” Joanna’s voice was soft.
    Raven Wing studied the man on the bed. “Perhaps he will recognize your voice and awaken.” He gave her a smile of encouragement. “Speak to our Sahkeé-mah. See if he will listen. Do not be afraid.”
    Despite the shaman’s encouraging words, Joanna felt her heart flutter nervously as she moved closer to address Wild Squirrel.
    She felt her stomach burn as she studied him. He looked even frailer than he had earlier. His skin, usually dark, appeared pale and translucent. His high cheekbones, which had once given him a look of authority and power, seemed too prominent in his thin drawn features. The sharp angles of his face, which gave him character when he was healthy, now added to his appearance as an ill man.
    “Grandfather,” Joanna whispered in Lenape. Her knowledge of the language was coming back to her. “I have come from far away to see you. Won’t you please wake up and talk to me?”
    Wild Squirrel seemed oblivious to Joanna’s presence, but the young woman was unwilling to give up. She touched his cheek with light fingertips.
    “Wake up, Grandfather! It is Autumn Wind. Do you remember me? You used to tell me stories when I visited your wigwam with my friend Little Blossom.”
    But Wild Squirrel lay without responding. Joanna attempted to wake him for several minutes before she decided to try again tomorrow. When the shaman learned of Joanna’s intent to return the next day, Raven Wing smiled his approval.
     
     
    He stood out in the yard and watched the woman leave the sachem’s wigwam. Fireheart scowled. Why did she have to come back? He had put her out of his mind and his heart. Why did she have to return to taunt him?
    He couldn’t deny that she looked lovely although there was something much changed about her. She seemed subdued. Where had the wild-spirited girl gone?
    His memory was of a bare-breasted girl walking across the compound, teasing the boys with her smile. She hadn’t noticed him, it was true, but he had adored her anyway.
    Now Joanna wore an English gown of soft blue with a scooped neckline and large sleeves that billowed, trimmed with fabric just below her elbows. She was covered primly from the neck to her wrists down past her ankles, but the dress also outlined her breasts and small waist.
    Fireheart found himself wondering what lay beneath the blue fabric. He scowled as he recalled how earlier he’d noticed the way the gown had outlined her womanly curves, and how the firelight in Wild Squirrel’s wigwam had brightened the red-gold in her blonde hair.
    She paused in mid-stride as she saw him. They stared at each