Page 64 of Freedom's Kiss
Chapter 26
Florida, 1826
Asa paced in front of the fire, his large frame wound tight. “I knew this was gonna happen. Knew they’d let people starve rather than hold up their end of the bargain.” He wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “Treat their horses better than they treat us, that’s what.” His feet stopped, and he met Winnie’s gaze where she formed corn cakes to bake on the fire’s coals. “We should escape while we can. To Mexico. Now. Before those who’re still fightin’ for our return to slavery, not to mention the removal of all the Indians from this land, grow stronger.”
“Otter’s only two years old,” Isaac argued. He too cast glances at Winnie, but where her father’s eyes were wild and hard, her brother’s held concern and determination. “A trip to Mexico is too much for him. Winnie too.”
Winnie laid the spheres of dough along the hot coals, holding her tongue. She looked over at Nokosi, who’d yet to voice his opinion on the matter. He bent over his work, a stone of flint—one he’d found along a rocky riverbed—in one hand and a hammerstone in the other. The flint had a white layer over the top, and he held it to a smooth rock that lay on the ground between his feet. He readjusted his grip on the oblong rock that he used as a hammerstone before he smashed it along the surface of the flint, splintering off flakes.
Winnie had watched him knap many times and had gotten good at predicting what tool or weapon he fashioned from the core of the flint stone. He was at the beginning of the process, but due to shape and size, her husband had the beginnings of an axe-head in his hands. It would be days of hard work, chipping away at the stone to create something workable, then concentrating his strikes to refine and create a sharpened edge before binding it to a prepared wooden handle and smoothing out the surface by rubbing it with the hammerstone.
Nokosi exhaled and laid aside his tools. He turned his attention to the small boy asleep on a blanket by his side before he lifted his eyes. “The reservation is a hard place. The land has suffered for lack of water and does not produce enough to fill everyone’s bellies. Our people were made promises, but instead they are dying, returning to Mother Earth for want of food.” He stood. “Our brothers who made the pact with the whites at Moultrie Creek have not endured as we have, since they were allowed to keep their villages along the Apalachicola River. Our voice must be heard, and if Neamatha and the other fourmekkoswill not speak, then I will. I will meet with the man at Fort Brooke. Hold them to their promise.”
Asa crossed his beefy arms over his barrel chest, but Isaac stepped forward. “I’ll go with you.”
“It is good.” Nokosi nodded and held out a hand to Winnie. “Make provisions, wife. We ride at sunrise.”
Winnie stood and shook out her skirts. She didn’t need to ask if theweincluded her and their son. Ever since he’d rescued her from the slave patroller, Nokosi had kept her and Otter close. In truth, she was glad he wouldn’t leave them behind.
While she didn’t relish the idea of trekking through the marsh to Fort Brooke, the idea of being separated from her husband sliced her heart. Per the treaty, some Seminoles had handed over their slaves, but others had not. Those bent on retrieving and stealing back thepropertythey thought they’d lost were using any means available to them. It had never been safe for those whose skin did not match her own, but the danger had multiplied as more settlers headed south into the new territory that had so recently been held by Spanish rule.
Using a stick, Winnie pulled the cornmeal cakes from the coals. They, along with some dried meat and fresh berries she’d picked earlier in the day, would serve to sustain them on their journey. She wrapped up the bread and placed them in a sack along with the other foodstuffs.
Otter stirred on the blanket, his large eyes blinking open. He sat up and rubbed at his eyes, then spotted her. Pushing up onto his feet, he ran to her and raised his hands. At this age, he should be speaking, but other than a few grunts, he communicated through gestures and expressions.
She swooped down and picked him up, settling him on her hip. Part of her feared something was wrong with her son. The other kids his age were stringing words together, and he had yet to say his first. Nokosi assured her that Otter would talk when he was ready and that when he did, his words would set the world on fire.
Winnie kissed her son’s temple and gently moved his hand that grabbed at her breast. The time to wean had come, but he’d been fighting her hard on the matter, her little angel becoming downright demanding. She picked up a red-ripe strawberry and offered it to him. “It’s good. Try it.” She placed it to his lips. When she thought he’d push it away like he’d done every other time, his mouth parted, and his teeth slid into the fruit’s flesh. He looked at her, eyes wide, and grabbed the berry, shoving the rest into his mouth. Winnie laughed and offered him another as she continued to collect things they’d need for their trip.
* * *
She wrapped a light poncho around her shoulders, the predawn air holding a hint of chill the sun would chase away the moment it crested the horizon. Otter snuggled deeper into the sling she’d placed him in, his body too big to be held this way any longer. When he fully awakened, he’d be pushing against the material’s confines and she’d have to let him out, but for now she relished his warmth tucked against her chest.
Nokosi and Isaac emerged from the trees, each leading a horse. Winnie had to swallow her trepidation at the size of the beasts. She almost offered to walk the whole journey but knew to do so would not only show weakness but slow them all down. Besides, she’d faced things more terrifying than these four-legged beasts.
Nokosi handed off the rope in his hand to Isaac and reached down to pull the sack holding their essentials over his head. At his hip dangled a tomahawk, the only visible weapon, though she was sure there were more on his person. The string of a bow slashed across Isaac’s chest, a quiverful of arrows at his back.
Otter twisted in the sling, his fists pushing against her belly. Soft sounds of protest drifted up to her before he pulled himself to sitting. Nokosi stepped to her side, a hand to their son’s head before he looked into her eyes. “He is no longer a babe.” Shifting his gaze, he nodded to Isaac. “He will ride with hispawa.”
Winnie swallowed but nodded.
Returning the black-and-white horse’s rope to Nokosi, Isaac swung up and onto the back of the one whose color resembled prairie grass in much need of rain. He reached his arm down. “I’ll take care of him.”
Winnie kissed Otter’s cheek before handing him up. “I know you will.”
Isaac situated the toddler in front of him, Otter grabbing great fistfuls of honey-colored mane and squealing in delight.
Before she knew what was happening, large hands encircled her waist and lifted her into the air and onto the other horse’s back. In a graceful leap, Nokosi settled behind her, one hand in control of the reins while the other splayed across her stomach.
“Relax.” He breathed the word, the hot air coming from his mouth dancing across her ear. A ripple ran down her spine. Married these years and still he had this effect on her.May it never change.
She allowed her muscles to unclench and sway with the movement of the horse, her back to rest against Nokosi’s broad chest. Maybe traveling on horsebackwasbetter than trekking on foot.
“What do you think the man at Fort Brooke will say? Do?”
“I do not know.”
The long night of preparation soon wore on Winnie, and she drifted off to sleep. When she awoke, she wasn’t sure how much time had passed, only that they slowed. By the time she blinked the sleep away, they had stopped. In the distance she noticed crude structures made from felled trees stacked upon each other, the red, white, and blue flag flapping from a tall pole in front. Tents pitched and lined in military precision. A few soldiers standing guard.
