ChapterTwentyTwo

Alice's eyes snapped open.

Some sequestered instinct alerted her that something was wrong.

Sitting up slowly, Alice wrapped the threadbare blanket around her form, and raised her eyes.

The two shadowed figures snapped into focus at the same time as they halted their whispered exchange. Alice squinted and…

She blushed up to the roots of her blonde tresses.

What a sight to wake up to.

Alice sat up straighter, nodding solemnly to her father-in-law. She was abashed, yes, that she had been caught in flagrant delicto, so to speak, but she forced herself not to cower.

Uncas eyed her anxiously, his mouth set in a grim line. He seemed to be beyond words at this turn of events.

"Good day, Chingachgook," Alice said, her voice throaty from sleep. "Is anything amiss?"

Chingachgook's dark eyes cut to his mute son. There was a stark pause. He frowned almost imperceptibly at Uncas. Alice looked apprehensively between father and son, her thin fingers gripping the blanket inflexibly.

"You are going to the Stewart's now, Alice," Uncas said this quietly, his gaze unsettled. "I will leave you there and then go with my father."

Alice balked. "Where is Nathaniel?" she pressed, her earlier misgivings rising within her.

Chingachgook was not in the mood to fiddle about and tarry. "Come. We must go."

He turned to leave, to give her time to dress herself, when he paused. Without looking at either of them, Chingachgook spoke in a low voice.

"The Yengeese at Letort have sentenced my white son to die in five day's time."

Alice glanced up quickly at Uncas, uncertain if she had heard correctly. She watched in shock, then dawning horror as the strong warrior she had come to love and trust looked down at the rough-hewn floor of the cabin, and squeezed his eyes shut.

"That's impossible!" Alice whispered, standing upright hurriedly. The blanket slid down lower on her frame, exposing her pale shoulders. Alice ignored this. She searched Chingachgook's profile. "Sentenced for what?"

"Sedition. Treason," Chingachgook replied, anger threading his voice.

Alice was reeling with this information. This terrible news that had her feeling as if she were in extremis.

It cannot be. Not now. Not like this. Not Nathaniel.

The pain and panic shook Alice to her very core. She would not accept it. She could not. He was Nathaniel of the Mohicans. He was Le Longue Carabine. He could not die and leave her sister widowed, and leave the family torn asunder.

"What will we do, Father?" asked Uncas in a flat voice.

"Yes, what can we do?" Alice hurriedly asked.

Chingachgook's brows snapped together sharply, and Alice shook slightly. The older man wore that look on his face when his temper had been piqued.

"You would be of no help. You would delay us," Chingachgook said shortly.

Alice felt her face warm at the depreciation. Still she felt she could not back down completely, not when so dear a life was at stake.

"I grew up around officers," Alice countered softly. "I know English military laws."

"No," Uncas cut in swiftly, his face more composed. "I will take you to the Stewarts."

Alice stared at him; at this man, her new husband. She knew what he was thinking. She had not only surrendered her body to him. The link between them was beyond physical. She could read his thoughts, that there was too much going on- my wife. My father. My only brother.

"But I…" Alice's eyes shifted between father and son. Resentment rose in her throat, though she tried to temper it. She was a wife now, she knew. But she would not return to being a helpless victim or a a bystander. She could not.

Uncas's voice was firm. "Dress yourself, Alice. Quickly."

Chingachgook's eyes looked cavernous in his lined face. Alice looked at him at first hesitantly, but her wariness felt residual more than anything else. As it had been in the few months prior, Alice felt her resolve grow, bit by bit, until she met Chingachgook's eyes steadily.

I am not useless.

Chingachgook met her gaze unflinchingly.

The men walked silently out to give her time to dress. She collapsed atop the bed, tossing the blanket at her feet, uncaring that she was now in her semi-transparent shift. Uncaring because the world that she had known for the last year, the life that she had built out of rubble and blood, was collapsing at her feet.

Alice felt her heart begin to break.

Uncas's hand felt cold as they hurried through the woodland, and Alice trying her hardest not to show her fatigue. While her body had become quite accustomed to the harsh rigors of frontier living, it was still difficult for her to keep up her pace with a skilled runner such as Uncas. She was determined not to slow him down.

Craning her neck up, Alice squinted up at the sun and thought it must be midmorning. They had kept a brisk pace for several hours, stopping at Uncas's insistence once so she could drink from his water skin. It was a lovely, crisp day.

Alice had glanced his way several times, but in his erect bearing and straight line of a mouth- so like his father's- she sensed his wish for silence.

Did he blame her?

Alice felt sickness rise quickly in her belly. The acrid taste of it made her draw in a shuddering breath. What will happen to Nathaniel? And my sister? What will become of my new family? Do they blame me? Will Uncas hate me? And Chingachgook? Will-

Uncas stopped so suddenly that Alice scarcely had time to react. With a gasp, she realized they were in front of a rolling river, and she was a few paces ahead of him, arm stretched back, while he clasped her hand securely.

"Let's sit," was his calm request. "Rest."

Alice shook her head briskly. "I am not tired."

Uncas cocked a black brow. "Sit for a bit, Alice. When you feel more rested, we can keep going."

For some unearthly reason, Alice felt a nervous tremor upon hearing those words. They reminded her of something… of someone…. of another place…. It did not bode well.

It was too much. Alice, already in the grip of guilt and fear, set her jaw.

"Uncas," she replied in a low voice, "I am quite fit. I wish to keep moving. I am not a doll. I shan't break."

Uncas pulled her gently until they sat on the river bank, then tugged on her arms until she was still.

Alice sat ramrod straight, her features set in taut lines.

Uncas eyed his new wife silently, expressionless. Alice could endure it no longer.

"It's my fault," she whispered, lowering her head.

"No," Uncas immediately replied, taking her limp hand. Alice felt the burning nausea rise again in her belly.

"It is!" she cried, standing abruptly. "Because of me, because I was arrested, Nathaniel might— might—''

"He won't, Alice."

Uncas wrapped his arms around her tightly, wounding her closer to his warmth. Even so, she felt a slight tremor creep stealthily though his lean frame.

It was all so blasted unfair, thought Alice, stricken. She burrowed her head into the warm place where his neck met his shoulder, inhaling deeply. He smelled of pine needles, and a bit of Millie's aromatic soap that had likely rubbed off her onto him.

He held her for several minutes as they listened to the rolling of the river.

"I won't let your brother die," Alice finally whispered, her voice breaking at the last word.

Alice hissed a sigh of impatience as she righted the nail on the fence that she was attempting to mend. With a glower, she swung the claw hammer sharply into the boarded columns that made up the encircling fence.

The hammer's strike caused the nail to splinter the wood, and before she knew it, the board itself cracked in half. Without thinking, she attempted to right the board quickly with her left hand, and yelped with a sudden searing pain.

A splinter.

A damned splinter about half as long as her thumb had lodged itself into the soft, delicate skin between her thumb and forefinger. Dropping the hammer onto the grass with a thud, she examined her hand with a wince. Alice attempted to extricate the fragment, but only succeeded in pushing it in further. More delving caused a small spurt of blood to bubble out and stream down her palm.

Alice turned to amble back into the Stewart's cabin. She wrapped her bloodied, throbbing hand into the folds of her cream colored skirts. The sun was bright and the air fair and cool, but Alice was in no mood to revel in it.

Uncas had left her there at the Stewart homestead the previous day. He didn't even stop to speak to the other women, though Alice knew he was pressed for time. The women had been overjoyed, Cora most of all. She had hugged Alice, and kept asking her what had happened, and where were the men, and was there any trouble. Even after Alice had provided her own abbreviated version of events.

Still, Alice felt aggrieved. She had been left alone with Cora and Annabelle, alone to have to be the one to explain to them what had happened with Nathaniel.

And Alice had been unable to. Was it cowardly, she wondered as she neared the cabin door, or was it compassion? She had sought sanctuary in Uncas's certainty that they would find a way to extricate Nathaniel from all of this. So, with this logic, she had merely told the ladies of the cabin that the men had stayed at the fort for another matter. That night, however, Alice had been unable to sleep. In the dark, still hours of the eventide, Alice had wept, facing the wall. She had felt a heaviness in her chest. There was no way around it—

Alice had been left behind, and Nathaniel was in grave danger.

She opened the door and sauntered in, headed for the cabinet that held salves and remedies.

"Is everything alright, Alice?" asked Annabelle from her place by the hearth, where she was stirring that evening's supper. Rabbit stew or something like it, by the enticing scent. Annabelle had been looking at Alice frequently since she had arrived, with her piercing hazel eyes; more likely than not, she sensed something was wrong, but was holding back from asking.

"Yes," Alice replied shortly, opening the cabinet and rummaging with her free hand.

"What happened to your hand, sister?" came Cora's worried voice. She dropped one of Nathaniel's calico shirts that she was darning, and crept quickly up to her younger sister.

"Nothing, Cora. Just- a splinter."

Cora tried to gingerly examine her hand, but Alice wriggled it free. Soon she found what she was looking for- a phial of sap from a pine tree, and a small pack containing grease from an animal. Uncas had given it to her some time before, when she had complained of mosquitoes. Not that she would ever use it daily; still, the grease was very useful.

Cora wrinkled her nose delicately. She never liked the smell of the grease that the Indians used so regularly.

"I can assist you," Cora said tentatively, as Alice sat on the table silently, spreading the objects around her. "I just need a needle…"

"This is faster."

There was a silence. With a nod, Cora returned to her mending, casting a speculative glance at Alice.

Several minutes passed, and Alice bit her lip, concentrating on trying to work the splinter out. with just the nail of her thumb.

"I will fetch some water," Cora sat up with a sigh, going to fetch the bucket by the door.

Annabelle nodded agreeably.

Once alone with Annabelle, Alice hunched herself lower. She could feel the other woman watching her steadily, could almost hear the cogs turning in her sharp mind, could sense her formulating her verbal inquest.

Cora had always been clever and fast on the draw, but Annabelle was in a class entirely of her own.

Within moments, Annabelle sat beside her, giving her prominent belly a wide berth from the table. She deftly took Alice's injured hand before she could protest, and gave it a cursory exam. Maneuvering and rolling Alice's palm around, she pressed her own nail into the skin. It was not long until the splinter began to work itself out.

Alice smiled at Annabelle, gratified.

Annabelle concentrated on her handwork. Then-

"What has occurred?"

That was all she asked, and Alice, overwhelmed as she was with everything that happened in the last few days, resisted in answering.

Annabelle pulled the offending splinter out, finally, and began to rub the sap on Alice's skin.

"You should have soaked your hand in vinegar first," Annabelle chided quietly.

Alice voiced her agreement, studying the older woman.

"Alice, none of us doubt your strength."

Alice blinked in stupefaction. What did?-

Annabelle continued, "The world is not a burden that you must carry. And if some misfortune has come our way, we must face it in unity."

Alice felt a lump in her throat. "I…. Annabelle, if you could help someone dear to you, even if it seemed impossible, would you?"

"Yes," Annabelle answered immediately. There was no hesitation whatsoever in her eyes. They were silent.

"Is it James?" Annabelle asked finally.

Alice shook her head, and, unexpectedly, Annabel's eyes welled.

It was too much. Courageous, strong, sensible Annabelle. If only my sister and I had stayed in Albany. If only we hadn't met the men. We brought nothing but misfortune to everyone on this continent. If only we had never come to this Valley.

Alice realized, belatedly, that she must have voiced some of those thoughts aloud. Because before she knew it, Annabelle had reached over and embraced the fair-haired woman.

"Tell me," Annabelle pressed, smoothing the lank hair from Alice's face.

"Nathaniel," Alice said, stricken, "The General of Fort Letort ordered him to be hanged. They found out about… about William Henry."

Annabelle's eyes widened. Before she could reply, however, Cora walked into the cabin, her eyes and face sunlit.

"The blue bass are running in the river!" she said easily, smiling warmly at the other women. She did not notice their careful, nervous silence. She set the bucket down. "And I thought James had said they normally swim this way in June?"

"Annabelle, should we complement the stew with potatoes, and perhaps carrots?"

Annabelle nodded wordlessly.

Cora left as quickly as she had entered, already preoccupied with their supper.

"You must tell Cora what has occurred!" Annabelle said at once, gripping her hand.

"Annabelle-"

"Alice, if it were you, and Uncas were so endangered, would you not wish to know?"

"Of course! But Cora… she would…Annabelle, allow me to tell her. I beg of you."

Annabelle eyed Alice circumspectly.

"Alright, Alice. Tell your sister the truth. But take heed not to tarry."

Alice nodded, feeling relieved and censured. She knew what she was doing was selfish. Self-loathing and panic warred within her.

Turning her gaze to the small pile of clothing that Cora had been mending, she spotted a breechclout, and beside it white wampum beads that formed a belt. Had Nathaniel forgotten it? He was never careless with that object, as it was a source of pride for him. Uncas had one near identical; they were belts that belonged to the Mohicans. Chingachgook had a grand one of white and black shell beads. The Indians used it to pass on their histories.

Alice kept staring at it all through the afternoon as she did her chores in the cabin, and when she was not in the cabin, she was thinking about the wampum belt. The Indians treated these heirlooms with such care.

She remembered near dusk of that one day she swore she would never think of again, that bloody day last August that she and her sister had almost met horrid fates, that Uncas had almost died, and they had lost dear Duncan.

Nathaniel, boldly walking into an enemy camp, for she and her sister's sake. Holding aloft Chingachgook's wampum belt as testimony of his words.

Alice's thoughts became speculative.

While the others were occupied cleaning up after supper, Alice stashed the wampum belt into a rucksack that James had left near the door. After some consideration, she slipped a sheathed knife into a pocket.

She might need it.

In the place of the knife, she left her brooch.

In this scenario, time was of the utmost essence. She mentally drew herself a map of all the surrounding landmarks. She had to walk as much as she could; thankfully she knew it would be a full moon tonight.

The twilight air was cool as Alice crept out of the cabin, sure footed and silent. She had a long trek with only the moonlight to guide her.

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