She felt his hand slip behind her head to lift her, felt the tin cup against her lips. She took a sip, pulled away.
“I know it’s bitter, but it will take away some of your pain without making you sleepy. Come, love. Drink.”
She did as he asked, opened her eyes to see his face hovering inches above hers, his eyes filled with concern. “I-it wasn’t a dream?”
“No, Bethie, it wasn’t a dream. There are two Wyandot warriors sitting outside roasting a goose over the fire pit. I’m afraid we have uninvited guests.”
“Two? But there were—”
“I killed the third.” He said it without emotion.
“I dinnae want them here!”
“Nor do I, but it is far safer to have them here where I can keep my eye on them than to drive them off only to have them return to attack in stealth.”
“I’m afraid.”
“They will not touch you again. I’ve told them you’re my wife and Isabelle is my daughter. Do nothing to make them think otherwise.”
“But—”
“It is more complicated than I can explain, Bethie. Just trust me.” He glanced toward Belle’s cradle. “Are you up to feeding the baby?”
Bethie’s breasts ached, heavy with milk. She nodded, tried to sit, gasped as pain seemed to shatter her skull.
“Easy, love. Just lie on your side, like you do at night.”
She rolled onto her side and began to unbutton her gown, wondering vaguely how he knew that she nursed Isabelle on her side at night.
Nicholas lifted Belle, who was now wailing, from her cradle, and laid her by Bethie’s bared breast.
Bethie guided her nipple to Isabelle’s little mouth, felt her baby latch on and begin to suck hungrily. Her breasts tingled as her milk began to flow. She felt drowsiness overtake her again.
Nicholas’s lips were warm on her cheek. “Just rest, Bethie. I’ll watch over both of you.”
***
By the time Belle had finished nursing, Bethie was fully awake. The potion Nicholas had given her had taken away most of her headache.
She checked Belle’s diaper cloth, found it soaking wet. Carefully, she rose, took up a clean, dry cloth, and changed her daughter, who gazed about with bright blue eyes, as if nothing terrible had happened.
And nothing terriblehadhappened. Thanks to Nicholas.
Bethie had no doubt that both she and Belle would be lying dead outside the cabin now if not for him.
She felt suddenly sick to her stomach, and trembling, lifted Belle into her arms.
***
Nicholas tore off another bite of roast goose, chewed, oblivious to the taste of the succulent meat. His thoughts were focused on the two Wyandot men who sat across the fire from him. They ate with abandon, having already consumed all of Bethie’s corn cakes and the potatoes she’d boiled.
It was all part of the game. Mattootuk wanted to show Nicholas that he wasn’t afraid, wanted to put Nicholas at ease. It would make it easier for Mattootuk and Youreh, his companion, to carry out whatever scheme they had in mind.
Mattootuk might call him brother, but Nicholas was not fooled. The Wyandot warrior hated him, had hated him from the moment Lyda had claimed him. Mattootuk wanted nothing more than to see him dead.
Mattootuk drew out his knife, cut off another sliver of meat, held it to his mouth with greasy fingers, spoke in Wyandot. “The years have been good to you. A wife. A daughter. The years have not been so good for the Wyandot.”
Nicholas cut another strip of meat for himself, aware that Bethie watched from the shadowed doorway with Belle in her arms. He answered in Wyandot. “The Wyandot should not have made war on the Big Knives. They are now neighbors to the Wyandot and will not be driven away. It would be better to make peace.”
