The Cry of the Wolf Chapter 46

They didn't have far to travel, crossing the narrowest part of the river. By daybreak, they reached the village, tying Brebeuf and his comrades to a post.

"What are you going to do?" Jaira shrieked, punching her husband's chest as he stood back, unflinching.

"I'm not doing anything and you had better stop right now if you know what's good for you..." William threatened, digging his fingers into her wrist until she yelped, certain he was separating her fragile wrist bones.

"Let me go!" Jaira pleaded, her eyes shooting him daggers.

Bitterness, like bile, rose in her throat.

Why had she left her sister? There was no love between her and her husband. Ah yes...she wanted to do the right thing. The heavens seem to taunt her as William increased the already painful pressure.

"What, you don't want to watch? I thought you hated Catholics. You should enjoy this..."

"I don't hate them!" Jaira whimpered, hating herself for showing William weakness.

Her husband smirked, "Of course not. I'm the liar."

He spun Jaira around in his arms, pinning her against his chest so she had an unobstructed view as Brebeuf was tied to the stake, his arms bound and raised above his head.

And then the torture began.

Jaira had never fainted in her life. She wasn't one of those girls. Darkness was welcome as she slumped in her husband's arms.

"Get her out of here," William snarled in disgust.

A tender expression passed over Eagle's features as William summoned him, snapping his fingers as though Eagle were a dog made to heal on command.

Something flashed in Eagle's eyes, making William cringe.

"You wouldn't dare," William's eyes grew dark as he all but thrust Jaira into Eagle's arms.

Eagle held her with one arm, smoothing her loose hair from her pale cheeks.

Without a word, he scooped her up off the ground. Pressing Jaira close to his chest, he strode the short distance to the shelter William called home before gently laying her down on warm furs. It was best she didn't hear Brebeuf's tormented cries. He walked to the entrance and stepped back out into the sunlight then paused. Sighing, he turned around and re-entered the room, squatting on the ground.

Jaira awoke, rubbing her eyes in the dim light trying to remember what had taken place.

The Catholic!

She sat up abruptly hoping he had been freed yet the sound of agonized screams coming from outside the door confirmed her worst fears. She tumbled out of her marital bed, nearly tripping on Eagle. He had remained so still she hadn't noticed him.

Reaching out to steady her, Eagle's hands lingered on her legs for a moment longer than necessary.

"What are you doing here?" Jaira gasped, pulling away.

"Taking care of you."

Awkward silence.

"You really don't need to be here. I can take care of myself."

"Clearly," Eagle hid a grin.

"Don't you want to be out there with the others?" Jaira flinched even as she asked the question.

Eagle watched the tangle of emotions flitting across the young woman's face before replying, "No."

Burying her face in her hands, Jaira wept.

"This is all my fault."

Eagle didn't question her, letting her vent.

"If I hadn't left my sister, you would never have found the tribe."

"We haven't," Eagle corrected her, knowing they must be close now that they had found the little Catholic man she had described.

"They don't serve this, and...and...no matter how I feel about the Catholic religion...I can't bear it!" Jaira cried out as another scream echoed around her ears. "Please Eagle, help me. Help me make them go back..."

"It's too late, Jaira. My people hate the Wyandotte. You were merely the tool - an opportunity that presented itself. Now with the English paying us for scalps, it is an even greater incentive to finish the quarrel we have between our tribes."

"Well, that is your problem. Not mine. Not Wiliam's!"

"He doesn't seem to be objecting," Eagle's eyes narrowed.

In fact, William seemed to be relishing this opportunity. There was something dark in Wiliam that he feared once tapped into... Eagle didn't finish his thought.

"We cannot let you go," he said simply.

Dropping to her knees Jaira began to pray like she never had before. She didn't pray for herself this time. No, she prayed for the priest who was about to meet his Maker.

****

Six days passed with Jaira refusing to eat, fasting, and praying for a miracle. Eagle brought her water which she barely tasted. William had not returned, not wanting to miss a moment of the action.

Tears soaking the furs and streaking down her face, Jaira's shoulders shook as she prayed, her words broken by heart-rending sobs.

"Have mercy, oh Lord, on his soul. Give him strength...and Lord, please, please forgive me for my part in this..."

A strange emotion washed over Eagle as he watched Jaira call upon a God he did not know.

Guilt.

****

Chief Long Knife struggled to breathe as he carried his children's lifeless bodies toward the mass grave.

Dark Star remained in the longhouse clutching her knees, tears coursing down her face. If given the choice, he would much rather have remained at his wife's side, holding Dark Star as she wept, sharing in her grief, but the bodies needed to be attended to.

Tears moistened his eyes as he lowered the bodies onto the pile, a blanket draped over their lifeless limbs. He only had himself to blame. If he hadn't let Brebeuf stay with the tribe that fateful day…

He stood at the edge of the hole for a long time, staring down at the heap of limbs. His people, those he loved, would never see the dawn. The tribe was weakened like never before, teetering on the verge of extinction in the wake of the smallpox plague. Yet, it wasn't about him or the tribe. Rather, it was about those who would never smile again.

Glimpsing a hint of blonde hair beneath the blanket, he turned away as a tear toppled over the bridge of his nose. Joshua could never be chief, but for it to end like this...he wouldn't wish this grief on his worst enemy.

The irony punched him in the gut. So maybe Brebeuf had truly changed the tribe - changed him. Unsure whether to be disgusted or not, he turned back to the longhouse and the mother of the children he had just buried.