Red Bird's Song by Beth Trissel Read Free Book Online

Wicomechee and I are a band of brothers."
    Both men seemed pleased, and if they had any reservations about the condition of Colin's newly recovered wife they concealed it well. “Do they speak English?” Charity asked.
    Posetha smiled. “I speak. Muga speaks little.” He pointed at her knee. “You are injured. Let me see."
    She watched cautiously as he knelt and pushed her cloak aside. Yesterday's bandage was stained and a dismal sight.
    He beckoned. “Come to the water."
    "Might I borrow your comb, Mister Dickson?"
    Colin withdrew a comb carved of bone from the beaded elk skin pouch hanging over his shoulder. The item in hand, she limped to the small spring bubbling up from between gray rocks and flowing into the trees at the base of a wooded slope. Inhaling the earthy scent, she sat on a sun-warmed stone.
    Where was Wicomechee, and why did she care? Only for protection, she reasoned, glad of Posetha's friendliness.
    Though not as tall as Wicomechee, he stood a handspan above her. He motioned her knee nearer the water to wet the bandage then carefully unbound the linen. The cut was closing well, though badly discolored with a purpling bruise.
    "Wait.” Posetha darted into the trees, returning with a handful of mitten-shaped leaves. “This kind brings healing."
    The spicy scent of sassafras rose around her as he pressed the crushed leaves to her wound and bound the poultice in place with a strip of linen taken from the pouch at his waist.
    "Thank you,” she offered.
    " Megwich ."
    Was he teaching her Shawnee? “ Megwich, Posetha."
    He watched appreciatively as she combed out tangles. “Your hair is colored like a red leaf. Pocoon sisqui . Your eyes are skipaki , the color of leaves in the planting moon."
    Colin stepped beside them. “Very poetic, Posetha."
    The earnest brave stood, plucked a fluffy milkweed pod, and bent to touch her cheek. “Like this, your skin."
    "Enough,” Colin chuckled. “Does Wicomechee want you to speak honeyed words to his captive?"
    Posetha shrugged. “I speak the words I like."
    "Until he puts a stop to it."
    Charity looked up at Colin. “Would Mechee really mind?"
    "Quite possibly. He took you captive for a reason."
    "What?” she asked guardedly, with that curious tingle.
    "He will tell you in his own way.” Colin leaned down and held out his hand. “Let's have you up."
    Puzzled and a little alarmed, she took his hand and got to her feet, walking with him to where Emma lay curled in her cloak like a slumbering cat. The wine-colored hood hid much of her face, but her cheek and long, closed lashes peeked out.
    "Poor darling.” Colin knelt and gently shook her. She parted rosy lips in a yawn as he slid his arm beneath her and lifted her from the blanket. “We must return to the cave and see to Lily. You and Charity can rest while we await the third war party. I can't imagine what's keeping them."
    Charity shook her head. “I'm not setting foot in that cave with Chaka there, Mister Dickson."
    "Fine. I'll toss him out."
    Emma blinked in alarm. “No, Colin. You mustn't."
    Charity hadn't meant to distress her. Neither could she possibly go back there. “Would Posetha guide me to Mechee?"
    Colin seemed surprised. “You really want to go to him?"
    Strangely, she found that she did. “Yes, please."
    "Perhaps you'd be better off with my brother just now, if he can be found.” His lips twitched. “Keep an eye on the stars, Miss Edmondson."
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    Chapter Four
    Charity followed Posetha toward the overlook where he thought Wicomechee kept watch somewhere further up the tree-shrouded ridge. A woof sounded behind her and the beagle brushed against her legs. She stopped to stroke his ears. “May he come with us?"
    Posetha paused ahead of her and gave a shrug. “Yes."
    " Megwich . He ought to have a name."
    " Weshe is dog in Shawnee.” Taking a wrinkled brown root from his pouch, Posetha sliced two aromatic pieces and handed one to her. “ Gensang . Good