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When Elliott looked toward him, Byron shrugged. "There's no point in all of us going after her. I'll see that everything gets taken into the house. That way at least one thing will have been accomplished before nightfall. Where are Mother and Father?"
"They had no way of knowing you'd be back today, so they went into town," Melissa explained. "They should be home soon though. Now let's go. If you two actually think you can impress Alanna favorably, you better start now, or you won't be finished by supper."
"Yes, ma'am," Elliott replied, but when he added a jaunty salute, Melissa would have slapped him with the back of her hand had he not quickly stepped beyond her reach. "Come on," he called to Hunter. "The well's out back."
The Indian followed Elliott toward the house with a long, fluid stride. He could feel Melissa watching him. Unlike her fearful cousin, her eyes were as blue as a cloudless summer sky, but Hunter did not enjoy being studied so closely. He was merely a man, like any other in his view, but it was clear Melissa considered him an object of curiosity, and he did not appreciate being observed so openly.
Hoping to make her feel ashamed for staring at him, he glanced toward her suddenly, but she responded with a sweet smile, rather than the embarrassed blush he had expected. He reminded himself it was Alanna who had run from him, not this confident beauty who actually appeared to be inviting his attention. Indian women considered him handsome, but it always surprised him when white women did, too. Flattered, he had to force himself to recall it was not Melissa who concerned him now, but her tormented cousin.
As they rounded the corner of the house, the variety of small structures clustered nearby came into view. There were perhaps a dozen buildings in all, each serving a specific need of the prosperous tobacco plantation. The kitchen with its large chimney was closest to the house, and beside it stood a circular brick well sheltered beneath a free-standing, shingled roof. A plank bench connected two of the posts which supported the roof, and just as Elliott had predicted, that's where Alanna was seated.
She had looped her arms around the post at her right, as though she intended fighting anyone who might attempt to drag her away. The despair of her pose brought Hunter to an abrupt halt, and Elliott and Melissa stopped beside him. Not wishing to insult their family, the Indian was cautious in his choice of words.
"Is your cousin merely easily frightened," he whispered, although they were standing too far away for his comment to be overheard by Alanna, "or does everything confuse her?"
Immediately understanding the intent of his question, Melissa hurriedly came to Alanna's defense, but she also took the precaution of speaking in a hushed tone. "She's not crazy. Is that what you're asking?"
Hunter glanced toward the slender girl huddled by the well. He could easily imagine the horror she had found after the Abenaki raid. Her house must have been awash in blood. The gore would have been splattered across the ceiling and dripping down the walls. Although Melissa had not mentioned it, he was certain Alanna's parents would have been scalped. No child should ever be exposed to the carnage Alanna must have seen, and Hunter would never fault her if it was more than a child's mind could sanely bear.
When he looked down at Melissa, the hostility of her expression certainly did not invite him to explain, but he felt he had to make the attempt anyway. "Sometimes when people see awful things, they retreat into their minds, perhaps into whatever pleasant memories they have. They are not crazy, but too filled with grief to enjoy the company of others."
Embarrassed that the Indian could describe Alanna's desire for privacy in such lucid terms, Melissa's expression softened
instantly. She had known precious little about Indians until she had met this one, but he was so enormously intriguing in both appearance and manner, that she now wished to get to know him well. "You're very kind," she assured him, "but Alanna is a capable young woman, who was tutored right along with my brothers and me. She's bright, and merely shy rather than reclusive or withdrawn. If only Elliott and Byron had had sense enough to tell her they had invited an Indian friend here for a visit before she saw you, I don't think there would have been any trouble."
"We've already apologized," Elliott mumbled.
"Not to Alanna," Hunter chided. "How old is she?"
"Seventeen," Melissa answered. She followed the Indian's gaze and volunteered more information before being asked. "We're only a year apart in age, and my mother used to dress us alike. Alanna would still have as lovely a wardrobe as I do, but she refuses to dress attractively. She doesn't want attention from anyone, least of all men."
"All men?" Hunter asked. "Even handsome lieutenants?"
A slow smile tugged at the corner of Hunter's lips, and Melissa was amazed to find him flirting with her. Even more astonishing was how greatly she enjoyed it. Her mother would never approve, but after all, she was shopping in Williamsburg and would never know anything about it. "Yes," she responded after licking her lips with the insouciance she had discovered made most men nearly drool with desire. "All my brothers' friends are sweet to her, but she'll exchange no more than a pleasant greeting."
"You two just stay right here," Elliott directed. "Let me talk with her alone first."
Rather than argue this time, Hunter relaxed into a more comfortable pose to ease the wait. Obviously eager to make amends for the fright she had suffered, Elliott called out to Alanna as he approached, so she would not be startled when he knelt in front of her. From where Hunter stood, he could not make out Elliott's words, but his friend's expression was almost painfully sincere.
"Elliott and Alanna are very close," Melissa whispered. "When she first came to live with us, she tagged along after him like a duckling trailing its mother. He claimed not to enjoy it, but never complained within her hearing, and I think he was more flattered than annoyed by her devotion."
While the family resemblance between Elliott and Alanna was not nearly as strong as that between Alanna and Melissa, Hunter could still see it. Their hair was the same honey-blond shade, and Alanna's profile could be interpreted as a feminine version of Elliott's. As they leaned close to talk, their gestures were identical.
"Do cousins ever marry?" Hunter asked.
Surprised by his question, Melissa needed a moment to thoughtfully consider a reply. "Yes, they do, but probably not when they've been raised as brother and sister the way Alanna and Elliott have."
She glanced up at the Indian, but quickly looked away when the intensity of his gaze struck her as being far too familiar. Apparently he spoke his mind regardless of the topic, but she did not think marriage an appropriate subject between them. She knew there were white women who had wed Indian braves, but she believed they had all been taken captive as children and raised to be more Indian than white, rather than young women from fine families with honorable traditions to uphold.
When Elliott waved for him to come forward, Hunter walked slowly to his side and, following his friend's example, he also knelt in front of Alanna. While he was certain that made him appear far less threatening than if he stood towering above her, the bright glow of panic hadn't left her eyes. Despite Elliott's undoubtedly soothing words, she was still clutching the post tightly, and Hunter believed his offer to leave had been his best idea where Alanna was concerned. He had asked to speak with her, however, and felt compelled to try.
When he began to talk, his voice was soft and low, barely above a whisper. "There are some who say that Indians and whites are too different to ever be friends, but I disagree. When it is winter, we both shiver with the cold. When there's nothing to eat, we are both gnawed by hunger. When we are happy, we both laugh, and when we lose someone we love, we both feel the pain of a broken heart."
With immense tenderness, Hunter reached out to pat Alanna's knee lightly. He then offered his hand. "Do you want to touch me? My skin is warm. If you close your eyes, you won't be able to tell which hand is Elliott's and which is mine."
Alanna had been holding her breath since the Indian's approach and, growing faint, now had to force herself to breathe deeply. She attempted to simply observe dispassionately, rather than react to his presence, but it took all of her courage to remain on the bench rather than again bolt, in spite of the fact he looked nothing like her gruesome mental image of the savages who had butchered her family. Viewed with the detachment Elliott had encouraged, she could even call him handsome.
His eyes were framed by a thick fringe of black lashes, and were so dark a brown that she could not distinguish between iris and pupil, but his gaze was sympathetic rather than menacing. His nose was straight, his well shaped lips slightly full, and his chin rounded yet firm. Despite the harmonious nature of his features, he was Indian, and that was what she could not forget.
