Just watching had turned my breath thin. “I can’t do it,” I whispered, ashamed to expose such weakness.
Henry reached over and placed a firm hand on my arm. “I’ll not let you drown,” he said gently.
I looked at him, saw the truth in his eyes.
“I promise, Selah...”
His voice penetrated my fear, gave me the courage to urge my horse forward. The Lenape had cleared the far bank, and I concentrated solely on him in an attempt to ignore the chasm of deep water that currently separated me from dry ground. When the river bottom disappeared, the cool, dark water swirled up around my waist. I grasped my horse’s neck, burying my face in her mane and holding on for dear life.
“You’re doing just fine,” Henry said encouragingly from right behind me. “Only a few more feet and you’ll be through.”
My horse rocked forward when its hooves came into contact again with the rocky bottom. I held on even tighter, not daring to look until I had been lifted entirely out of the water.
“Now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Henry came up alongside me once we had made it into the shallows.
“No, it wasn’t,” I said entirely surprised and more than a little pleased. “But I couldn’t have done it without your help.” Only his reassurance had gotten me off the bank.
When we reached dry ground, the Lenape gave me a minute to pour the water from my boots and wring my skirts before turning his horse into the woods. I disliked riding in layers of wet clothing, soaked up to my bosom, but there was nothing to be done other than ride on and let the air dry me out. Luckily for all of us it was a decently warm day, which eliminated the risk of taking chill and falling sick.
The vegetation grew denser the deeper we went into the woods, and it took me a while to realize that we were following some sort of game trail. Even so, I hoped Henry was paying attention, and would be able to lead the way back to the river when the time came. More than an hour passed before the trail finally gave way into a wide clearing.
I had been to the village twice before and recognized the bark covered longhouses and wigwams. At first sight it appeared like any other day—Indians moved about, engaged in various tasks—but an unnatural quiet persisted. I heard no sound of laughter or talking. Even the children, who were usually rambunctious and full of energy, had been affected by the somber mood and were either huddled in small groups or staying close to their mothers.
Dismounting, Henry and I followed the guide toward the largest of the longhouses, where we found the tribe’s chief waiting outside the doorway. A powerfully built man, he looked somewhat intimidating with his hair shaved nearly to the crown and his forehead painted red and black. Grave lines marred his rugged face from the strain of having his son and the tribe’s future leader so greatly afflicted.
He spoke English as well as Teme, and I tensed slightly, not knowing what he would say in front of Henry, or how to stop him from saying too much if need be. When my grandparents arrived in Hopewell more than forty years ago, the Lenape had known at once that they were different from the other settlers. My father thought it was due to an acceptance of shamans, or perhaps a belief that there were spirits everywhere and in everything. Regardless of the reason, they knew of my gift and saw no reason to feign ignorance while in their own village.
“Tenteyuawen,” he addressed me. “My son is dying. Eight days ago he was hunting for deer and cut his hand with a knife. His mother cleaned the wound when he returned, but an evil spirit had already found the way inside his body. Now this spirit rages, and our healers can do nothing to stop it. Only your power is strong enough to make it leave.”
Henry stood at my side listening to every word, and by good fortune nothing had been said that couldn’t be easily dealt with later. If I had been alone, I would have responded more reassuringly. Instead I merely requested to see Teme.
The chief nodded and moved to the door of the longhouse. When I followed, Henry stayed protectively at my side, prepared to enter with me, but it was one thing for him to hear my powers described as great and another altogether to witness what I was about to do. “Henry, it would be best if you stay here,” I said.
A shadow fell across his face, but seeing my earnest expression, he reluctantly agreed.
The chief lifted aside the animal hide that served as a door and motioned me into the house. The lack of windows greatly reduced the light to a dark gloom that immediately closed around us as the hide fell back into place. Women chanted softly toward the far end. The chief guided me to where they were sitting crossed leg in a circle around Teme.
He was lying naked on a deerskin mat, his body arched in painful spasms. The chief said something in his native language and several of the women moved aside to make room for me. With a slow deep breath, I knelt down at Teme’s side, and placed my hands on his chest.
“I’m here, Teme,” I said as the warmth began to swell inside me.