All that his earthly father was not and might never be.
32
Selah awoke, the moon outside her bedchamber pouring pale light through the open window. Had she only dreamt the unusual sound, intermingled with the pup’s barking and other barnyard noises? Perhaps Father was awake, roaming about restlessly as he sometimes did.
Leaving the soft warmth of her bed, she trod barefoot to the door, hesitating at the top of the stairs. Through the nightly din of cicadas and frogs came another sound that roused her further. A rustle of brush. A footfall. Just beyond the bolted doors and shuttered windows.
She felt her way down the steps and into the parlor, then paused at the front door. The distressed whinny of their mare forbade her to venture further. She stood still as her heartbeat quickened, causing a roaring in her ears. Some prowling creature, perhaps. Father had mentioned seeing catamount tracks near the henhouse. Izella slept in a room off the summer kitchen. Surely she’d awaken if needs be.
Selah hugged the wall till she came to her parents’ bedchamber. Pushing open the door, she moved nearer till she could ascertain their rhythmic breathing and undisturbedforms in the shadows. Though she was unable to see the clock, instinct told her it was nearly break of day.
Returning to the parlor, she listened. Night seemed to have settled again. Not one untoward sound did she hear. Kentke’s barking had ceased. Slowly she went up the stairs, ever mindful of Shay as she passed his bedchamber. Lest she wake Watseka, she stepped gingerly across the worn floor toward her bed, stifling a yawn. The moon, snuffed by clouds, reappeared, slanting pale light across tousled bed linens ... and an empty mattress. The chamber pot in the far corner had no one perched over it. Despite their admonitions, Watseka sometimes preferred to go outside.
Selah’s hasty return downstairs had her stumbling on a step and careening into a wall. To her dismay, her parents were on their feet, Father waiting as she descended the steps.
“I cannot find Watseka.” As a precaution, she took out the loaded musket from its resting place. “There was a commotion outside, so I came downstairs and checked all the locks. On my way back to bed, I found hers empty.”
“I shall go out and have a look myself while you return upstairs and stand watch by your bedchamber window.” Father cleared his throat. “Your mother will bolt the door after me. Make no move till you hear my voice. Perhaps the child simply went out to check on her pup.”
Selah balked. “But the doors are locked—”
“But not the upstairs windows, your mother says.”
Selah had forgotten. In the heat, she’d left the windows open. How could she have been so careless? Could Watseka have climbed out ... or might someone have climbed in?
Xander had entrusted Watseka to their care. The appalling certainty that the girl’s disappearance was Selah’s ownfault nearly buckled her knees. She would not see her ailing father suffer for her lapse.
“Give me the gun, Selah.” Father’s firm tone belied his weakened state.
She took a step back, her clutch tighter on the musket. Turning, she reached the door and rushed headlong into the last of the night.
At last they came to Menmend. Ever since they’d sighted the sprawling encampment with its haze of woodsmoke, Oceanus’s skittishness had spiked visibly. Xander knew that Chief Opechancanough, ever shrewd, would sense it, to the lad’s discredit.
“Father, I am not feeling brave.”
The whispered words brought Xander to one knee. Hard as it was for him to show any outward affection, he set aside his unease and embraced the boy. At first stiff, Oceanus finally leaned into him and laid his head upon Xander’s shoulder.
“’Tis natural to feel fear betimes. But remember the biblical queen Esther, who did bravely before the king despite her fears. And the shepherd David, who defeated the giant. Courage bears its own rewards.” He stroked Oceanus’s silken hair, so like Mattachanna’s. “Be stout of heart. Your coming will please your grandfather. Remember, you are a valiant soul crossing an ocean and now venturing further west. I am proud of you.”
With a nod, Oceanus lifted his chin and looked toward the outline of the village situated along the picturesque Pamunkey River. Domed dwellings spread in all directions, a multitude of reed-covered shelters offering shade and repose. Smoke from countless cook fires thickened the sultry air.The lively if distant shouts of children at play surely tickled Oceanus’s ears.
Before they’d gone much farther, a tattooed escort appeared from a stand of oak and fell into step beside them, their official welcome to Menmend.
“Welcome, True Word.”
Gaze never settling, Xander looked for signs of Shay. Their meeting would hearten Oceanus too. For the moment, he was regarding their guide with silent wonder, gaze riveted to the headband he wore with its colorful feathers.
They passed palisaded walls much like those of the English before coming into the heart of the village and reaching the council house. Here there were at least a hundred werowances gathered beneath a bower of saplings that shaded their chief. Xander knew some of them and considered them sound men. Others, full of superstition and animosity, he avoided if he could.
As usual, the chief was expecting them, alerted by spies whose watchful gaze Xander had felt since the Chickahominy River. There was no deducing Opechancanough’s feelings about the moment. Faced with his favored daughter’s son, his grandson, the nearest living link to Mattachanna he had, the chief remained wooden. Oceanus regarded the mantle of raccoon skins the headman wore with such awe it seemed to make him forget his fears.
Without warning, the assembly gave a collective shout. Expecting Oceanus to start, Xander reached out a reassuring hand, but the lad did not so much as flinch.
A bowl of water was brought by the chief’s most favored wife. Xander paused to wash as was customary, as did Oceanus. After drying their hands with feathers, they drew nearerOpechancanough, who regarded them both with an unnerving intensity before breaking the silence.
“Is this my daughter’s son?”
“It is he, aye, and desirous of seeing you.”
