Firebrand's Woman by Vanessa Royall

Author:Vanessa Royall
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781626814080
Publisher: Diversion Books
Published: 2014-09-07T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter VII

The first few days in Harrisville were filled with constant activity, with so many new things to learn. And yet it seemed to Delia, as she first observed the activity and then began to participate in it, that the routine of these white jackals in their strange boxy village of stone and wood was not so greatly different from the daily exercises and observances of her own tribe, separated from her now by mountains, and much more.

Rupert Harris packed saddlebags, loaded his rifle, stuck a knife and a big pistol in his belt. Then the villagers gathered around as he mounted his horse and rode off to visit Chula Harjo, and the scene was quite like that among the Chickasaw when braves set forth upon a war party, or when the chieftain left to hold counsel with warriors of another tribe. Delia put it into perspective. Harris was a small chief, Jacksa a greater one. And Monroe, far away in Washington, was the greatest of all. But, as among her people, an old chief could depart and a new one take his place. Jacksa could become the great chief, so—her mind leaped ahead of her—so why could Jason not become chief here?

Maybe Harris would never come back. Maybe a mountain lion would leap from a tree, to rend and devour his pale, stinking flesh. Or perhaps a Choctaw would send an arrow into his hard heart. Or a crocodile might be sleeping on the river bank when Harris sought to ford a stream…

Among the villagers, occupations, relationships, feuds and alliances, stresses and strains, grew more and more obvious. Jason went out into the country, to inspect parcels of land for the plantation he intended to mold, by effort of will as well as of muscle, from the surrounding wilderness. “Ten thousand years have made the earth rich,” he told her. “It will grow cotton plants ten feet tall.” While he was away from the village, she helped perform whatever tasks were necessary. At Gale’s house she learned how to replace the soft covering of the bed after she awoke in the morning, and how to position what Gale called the silver on the table at which they ate. She also learned how to listen to Gale without saying anything of importance herself, because she had grasped quickly that anything she told the other girl was quickly repeated to everyone else who would listen, yet always with strange twists and turnings. At dinner that first night, to spare herself an inquisition, she had made it appear that Talking Rock had been a school, and a distinguished one at that, rather than the deadly place in memory where her parents had been killed by Chula. Gale had clearly never heard of the school at Talking Rock, but she had spoken of its renown to the women of the village.

“Of course I don’t know much,” said Mrs. Hawkes, the blacksmith’s wife, when the women were at work hoeing the garden. “I haven’t had a fine education.

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