Mary Glickman - An Undisturbed Peace

All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this book or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright 2016 by Mary Glickman

Cover illustration by Jesse Hayes

Cover design by Andrea Worthington

978-1-5040-1831-9

Published in 2016 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.

345 Hudson Street

New York, NY 10014

www.openroadmedia.com

For Peter, who gave me the idea

And for Stephen, who nurtured it

We, the great mass of the people think only of the love we have to our land for we do love the land where we were brought up. We will never let our hold to this land go to let it go will be like throwing away [our] mother that gave [us] birth.

Inclination to remove from this land has no abiding place in our hearts, and when we move we shall move by the course of nature to sleep under this ground which the Great Spirit gave to our ancestors and which now covers them in their undisturbed peace.

Cherokee Legislative Council at New Echota,
July 1, 1830

GENESIS

The Piedmont, North Carolina, 1828

W ait.

He put out a hand to grab her wrist and pull her back to the bed with him but she easily eluded his grasp.

Be patient, she said. Im not going far. She knelt by his side where he lay, sated and drowsy on a pile of animal skins. Tilting her head with its full, curled lips and raised eyebrows as if asking a question, she removed a small wooden box from the chest by the side of the bed. The box was studded with bits of river glass on its sides. A bird in flight was carved into its lid, the birds long brass beak formed its latch. Sticking a stone pipe in her mouth, she opened the box, then waved it around the close room so that the air filled with the sweet scent of wild tobacco. She filled her pipe and lit it with a thin bundle of twined straw she stuck in and out of the oil lamps center. She inhaled, exhaled, raised her big black merry eyes to the heavens while muttering some kind of incantation, then passed the pipe to her chosen lover of the moment, Abrahan Sassaporta, a peddler who had wandered by her cabin offering packets of seeds, scraps of lace, and tin utensils.

Abrahan puffed on the pipe in a fog of wonder. He could not believe his good luck. Four hours ago, theyd been strangers. Abrahan was a fresh immigrant on his virgin sales expedition for his uncles business. After he left the mainstay of his wares at Micahs Trading Post, to which hed return for resupply as needed, hed traveled on foot, a pack on his back, to five of the farms on the list and map given him. Hed made a wrong turn at a fork along the beaten path.

The path hed chosen narrowed until he found himself aimless, wandering between trees, unable to locate the way back. Hed begun to imagine himself forever lost, starving to death in the forest, facing down strange, wild beasts and savage men when out of a verdant chaos of trees and roots and vines, the clearing appeared, a grassy hillock crowned by a log cabin with an open door. A native woman leaned against the doorway with crossed arms and a determined expression. She was dressed in a red cotton shirt and deerskin britches.

As he approached, he saw that her face was a pleasing assembly of angles and light, her skin as dark as his own but lit with golden copper as if from the very blood beneath it. Her eyes were almond-shaped and heavy-lidded, which lent them a sly look. Shed a strong nose, a big gorgeous mouth. From beneath a blue bandana slung low over her brow, her black hair, straight and thick like the mane of a horse, hung well past her clavicle to brush the tips of her breasts. He marveled at how very strong she looked. He felt excited and a bit afraid. A thin, hot wire inside his chest vibrated from his toes to his scalp. Despite his anxiety, he managed to introduce himself and show her his wares.

Seeds? shed said, mocking him. Seeds? When I cannot make my own seeds for growing, Ill drown myself and give my flesh to the Earth, who will surely make better use of it.

The lace she also discounted. But there was a large fork she could find use for, along with two sizes of spoons. He produced a pouch of gunpowder from his pack and her eyes danced. She grabbed his arm and pulled him into the cabin. Here, she said, slapping four coins on the wooden table that stood in the center of the room. Ill take as much of that powder as I can get.

Abrahan looked around, buying time. He saw the quiver of arrows near the door, the longbow as tall as he was beside it, the half-size hunting bow next to that. Opposite the door a variety of knives were mounted against the wall. The largest might have been a kind of broadsword, the shortest was narrow with a hooked tip. There were firearms also. A flintlock pistol, a rifle, and a shotgun hung by leather straps above the fireplace. There were no additional decorations on the walls. Weaponry alone graced the raw, unmilled timber as if the entire structure was built solely as a monument to defense. For a moment, Abrahan wondered if hed stumbled upon some private armory. Flustered, he looked down at her coins.

You wont get much with that, he said.

Then take back your fork and spoons.

I still cant give you more than half an ounce. I only have four to spare. The rest I carry to fill long-standing orders. And my rounds are not half done.

Her mouth twisted. The air between them went hot and humid, full of scent. They could hear each other breathe. He did not know why but something in him longed to please her. Maybe it was fate calling to him, with finger crooked and eyes sparkling. Whatever it was, it came from a place so deep in him he made a rash decision.

But I could give you credit, he said. As soon as the words flew out of his mouth, he regretted them. He had no authority to back them up. But there they were, on the table, beside the two spoons, fork, and coin.

The great black eyes blinked with surprise. She leaned backward, tilting her head while she folded her arms across her chest and studied him. Now, here, her posture seemed to say, was a new creature under the sun. He blushed under her scrutiny.

Well, thats settled then, he mumbled. He reached into his pack for the gunpowder and she was on him, her mouth hot on his neck. When she pulled back and saw the alarm on his face, saw the wide eyes, the open, dry mouth, she grinned.

Four hours later, the sun had begun its daily descent behind a distant ridge of smoky-blue mountains, and the air had grown cool. He puffed again on the pipe and drew one of the skins over his naked limbs.

She got up. Her bare backside was to him as she crouched at the hearth and placed the nights logs in the fireplace. He marveled that while hed begun to feel numb at his toes from the deepening chill of twilight, shed not raised so much as a goose bump. Then he fell to admiring the slope of her hip.