Chapter 7.

JACK ENTERED THE kitchen the next morning and found Nora there with Betsy. Nora was bundling herbs from the piles on the table and hanging them by the fire to dry out.

“Good morning, sir,” she smiled. “You certainly are an early riser.”

“Always,” Jack said.

“Are you hungry?” Nora asked. “Betsy has just put bread in the oven, and she makes the most delicious jam.”

Famished, Jack grunted his approval. While Jack was an early riser, he wasn’t exactly at his friendliest first thing in the morning. He had tossed and turned all night, too many questions lingering in his mind, and he had spent the night rolling them over, trying to come up with all possible answers. It had left him exhausted this morning.
Nora, on the other hand, looked refreshed and ready to face the day. Perky people like her tended to make him insane. Little Star, a girl in his tribe his parents hoped he’d marry, was like that. She always woke up and greeted the day with a smile. Jack couldn’t begin to see the day in a positive light until well past the noon hour.

“May I?” Jack gestured to the piles of various herbs and Nora shrugged. She may have assumed that he was going to help her bundle the herbs, but he was on a more selfish mission. He picked through and put some rosemary aside. He didn’t see any ginseng root, which was unfortunate, but she did have mint. The rosemary and mint would have to do.

“What are you making?” Nora asked as he began to grind and crush the fresh leaves.

“A tea that helps wake me up in the morning,” Jack ex-plained. “Rosemary and mint stimulate the senses and make you more alert. I like to add ginseng when I can, but I don’t see any here.”

“Would you mind making enough for two?” she asked. “I don’t believe I’ve ever tried that particular blend.”
Jack grunted his agreement and began to hunt around for mugs, spying the kettle of water on the fire. Betsy came to his aid and placed large ceramic mugs in front of him.
After putting the herbs in a mesh bag, he added them to each mug and poured the steaming water over them, leaving them on the table to steep and cool down. This was the worst part, knowing his liquid sal-vation waited there just out of his reach. Waking up truly was the worst part of the day.

He turned to Nora, who quickly averted her eyes when he saw she was looking at him. “So, Jack,” she said. “Ben said you were raised by Shawnee Indians? Where are you from?”

“They live here in Western Pennsylvania,” he said.

“I don’t know much about the Indians,” Nora said. “Is it difficult living with them and being a white man?”

Jack thought about the tribe politics, especially as they pertained to him. While his parents and other braves—including the chief—had accepted him as one of their own from the time his parents had brought him into the tribe, many of the elders were still not convinced he belonged with them or should remain there. For now, he held an important position with the tribe that frequently took him away. He liked these trips, when he didn’t have to look the elders in the eye and know what they thought. “This is my home!” he wanted to rage at them, but that wasn’t done. He would prove himself more the outsider if he ever let his frustration with the tribe elders show.

“No, not so much,” Jack said. Absently, he began to help her bundle the herbs. The task allowed them to talk without hav-ing to make eye contact, which currently made Jack uncomfort-able. He squirmed a bit when he felt her scrutiny on him. Her eyes held secrets and he suspected the secrets may be about him. “It has its struggles, I suppose.”

“Will they be worried about you?” Nora asked.

“No,” Jack said. “Not yet. I haven’t been gone long enough. But, of course, my mother always worries about me, as I am her only son. She was unable to bear children of her own. That is why she accepted me so readily, I think.”

“Just like a white woman.” Nora smiled, briefly making eye contact with him. He looked away.

“There are many similarities between white people and the Indians,” Jack said. “That is why I am constantly surprised they can’t find common ground.”

“That must be difficult for you,” Nora said sympatheti-cally. She laid her hand over his, but when he looked up at her she snatched it back, gathering up her bundle and turning to-wards the fireplace. “Having your two worlds clash like that, I mean to say. It must be hard.”

Not until recently. As Jack struggled with his standing in the tribe, he had started to question if his future even lay with the Shawnee. But what would he do in the white world? What could he do? He couldn’t very well wander around his whole life. He supposed he could join the British army, but that didn’t appeal to him at all. The British, as well as the Colonists, were responsible for many atrocities towards his people. He could wait out the elders. They wouldn’t live forever, and his chief was secure in Jack’s place with the tribe.

Eventually, he would have to marry and produce more braves. At twenty-eight years, he was already considered well above the marriage age in his tribe, but there really wasn’t anyone he thought he could marry. Maybe he could marry a girl from another tribe.

“Where are you from?” Jack asked, deciding to change the subject. “Your accent doesn’t sound Colonial.”

“England, originally,” Nora said. “I haven’t been there for quite some time though. I…needed to leave, and the Colo-nies seemed to be the only answer.”

“How did you end up being sponsored by Ben? Did you lose your parents, too?”

A curious expression crossed over Nora’s face, shadows that hadn’t been there just a moment ago, and Jack knew he had stumbled upon a sore spot.

“Yes, in a manner of speaking,” Nora said. “Quite some time ago actually. I met Ben shortly after I arrived in the Colonies. He was a very generous man to take me in.”

“Do you remember your parents?” Jack reached for his mug and brought it to his lips, savoring the heat as it slid down his throat. Nora picked up her mug and did the same.
They both leaned against the table for the small break.

“Very well,” Nora said, taking another sip. “You?”

“Not at all,” Jack said. “I was very young when I lost them.”

“Maybe that’s for the better,” Nora said quietly. “Some-times dealing with the memories is harder.”

They drank their tea in silence after that. Jack didn’t feel quite as awkward as he had when he’d first come in.

“One more thing, please,” he said, pushing off the table and setting his mug down.

“What can we do for you, sir?” Nora said, doing the same, the companionable moment now gone.

“I’d like my weapons back.”