The Colonists by Jack Cavanaugh

Author:Jack Cavanaugh
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: historical fiction, american colonies, historical boston, historical drama, christian author, american historical fiction, christian bestselling fiction, christian history, historical ebooks
Publisher: Jack Cavanaugh

They sat opposite each other atop the wooden tower.

“You surprise me,” Weetamoo said.

“How so?”

She held a short stick in her hand, one that might at any moment go sailing through the air toward a blackbird. Now, however, she scratched one end of it absentmindedly on the planks of the platform as she spoke.

“You’re so different from when you first came here.”

“I don’t think I’m different. You’ve just gotten to know me.”

“No, you’re different. The Philip Morgan that came looking for his family’s Bible was arrogant and self-centered.”

“If I’ve changed, I hope it’s for the better,” Philip joked.

His attempt at humor got the desired response. Weetamoo smiled and whacked him playfully on the leg with the stick.

“I’m going to be permanently crippled if you keep hitting me with things!”

“The rocks were your fault!” she cried.

“You’re right, I take full blame for the rocks,” he conceded.

Weetamoo stared at his injured cheek. Then her eyes crept upward to the scar on his forehead.

“Even a bear couldn’t knock good sense into you.”

She pointed at the scar with her stick. Philip ran a finger along the scar line.

“How far back does it go?” Weetamoo asked.

Philip pulled his hair back. She leaned forward to get a closer look at it.

“It’s a nasty scar,” she said. “You’re fortunate that most of it’s covered by hair.” She returned to her place. “I was shocked when you returned, especially considering your wound.”

“My family’s Bible was here. After all I’d been through, I wasn’t going to give it up so easily.”

Weetamoo nodded. “When you returned, you were still arrogant and selfish. All you wanted was your Bible. And even though I was sorry you were wounded, I hated you. Then, just like that, you changed.”

“You say it like it happened instantaneously.”

“I think it did,” she said.

“When?”

“When you learned that Nanouwetea was Christopher Morgan.” She laughed softly. “You should have seen your face! I’ve never seen someone look so dumbstruck before!”

“Thank you for those kind words,” Philip chuckled with her.

“You’ve not been the same since,” she said.

“You think so?”

She nodded. “It’s the way you look at him. How can I describe it? It’s a mixture of love and awe.”

“He’s a remarkable man,” said Philip.

“I think so,” she agreed. “Sometimes I feel guilty.”

“Why?”

“Unlike so many other families, growing up with him I’ve never known hunger or fear. When I was old enough to begin understanding spiritual things, it was easy for me to accept the fact that I had a loving heavenly Father because I’d known such love from my earthly father.”

“It was the same way for me and my father.”

“You must miss him terribly.”

Philip nodded. “Nanouwetea has helped ease my pain.”

“Is that why you’ve stayed? To be near him?”

Again Philip nodded.

Weetamoo tossed the stick over the side of the platform. Looking at the level of the sun in the sky, she said, “It’s time we get back to the wigwam. Nanouwetea will be expecting us.” As she spoke and made her way past Philip to the ladder, never once did she look at him.

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