The Homestead

AN: So I had a pretty good response to my first chapter and, as promised, I'm more than happy to continue if the interest is there. This was an interesting chapter to write. I feel like there is a lot of potential to explore the relationship between Timothy and Connor, as they come from such religiously different backgrounds. I don't wish to demonise any side through my writings so if you feel that I have, let me know and I'll see what can be done.

Happy reading!

~~~~~~~~~ AC3 ~~~~~~~~

"B-But I don't wanna!"

"Do not be so rude when he's only trying to help."

"But I don't wanna!"

"Well, tough luck, young man. You are going to learn today and that's final. Now I don't want you moaning and complaining in front of Connor, do you understand me?"

"What if I die?"

"Now why on earth would you do that?"

"Because I can't swim!"

"You soon will. See, there he is now. Connor! Connor?"

Connor turns around, grinning at the sight of Prudence dragging along her son. Hunter looks miserable, she knows, but she is unwilling to give up on her idea to make him swim. Neither her nor Warren had ever learned and she wants her son to never be afraid of the water as she is. Who knows what her child's life might bring and perhaps swimming could be a great gift to him.

"Hello, Prudence. Hello, Hunter."

"Good Afternoon, Connor. Say hello, child."

"… Hi," says the boy. Prudence could see that he had always been awed by the strong man in front of her so she's not surprised when the boy untangles his hand from hers and puffs out his chest. Connor seems to notice this action and she sees his eyebrow twitch, for just a moment, as if amused.

"Are you ready to swim?" Says Connor.

"Yes, sir."

"Will you be watching, Prudence?"

"I hope that is all right. It isn't that I do not trust you, it's just that…" She says, faltering.

"I understand. A mother worries always."

"Yes. Always." She says, truthfully.

"Okay, let us begin." The man turns back to the water, the stream that is running and bubbling in front of them. "Hunter, remove your shirt and shoes."

"Yes, sir," says the boy obediently and Prudence decides to take a seat on a log, her legs aching from the years of bending and walking she has done. She smiles when her boy glances at her for a moment, as if reminding himself that his mother was around. She feels a bubble of pride and love in her chest, something that often afflicts her when she looks at her boy.

She's surprised when Connor starts to remove his clothes as well and she has the decency to blush, before her expression quickly turns into a concerned frown. She knows that underneath his clothes and furs, he has muscles and strong limbs but nothing could prepare her for the copious amounts of scars and bruises and open wounds. She stares (what else is she meant to do?) because they don't look fresh but she's seen Norris pat him on the back, right where a nasty looking cut is and Connor didn't even bat an eye. In fact, she's never even seen him limping and yet there's nothing but slash after slash covering his upper torso.

The one that worries her is the scar on his side. It is wide and spreads along his side like ragged slash. She can clearly see the difference in colour and level, as if a large chunk of flesh had been ripped out of him at some stage. She tries not to say a word, not to react. She knows that Connor would be aware of his appearance or else he wouldn't have agreed to teach her boy. But it shocks her; saddens her. All those wounds and no one to tell about them? How lonely, it seems…

Connor looks around, as if nervous or self-conscious and she can clearly see a persona take over, as he collects himself and turns to Hunter, who is staring at him openmouthed.

"Come on," says the man, as he wades into the stream. He has long pants on but soon they are wet from the merrily bubbling stream. They cling to his thighs and Prudence reminds herself to go to confession after mass.

Hunter rubs at his bare arms and follows. Deeper they go and still Hunter follows his hero. There is clear admiration in those naive eyes of his.

"S-Sir?" Says Hunter, as he stops. He's shoulder high in water and Connor is only hip chest high.

"Okay, Hunter, I'm going to bring you through the water. Before you swim in it, you must learn not to fear it."

The boy nods and she bites her nails, nervously. She had never gotten over her own fear of water, a result of her younger sister drowning one horrible afternoon. She will never forget her blue face and the way the water spewed from her gasping mouth. Prudence shuts her memory off, turning back to the present. Living in the past will do her no good.

"Spread your arms out like a bird," Connor hooks his hands under the outreached arms, before pulling him through the water. The boy's face lights up as the water flows over him and under him. It looks fun, she must admit. Connor brings him deeper, until only the mans head is visible but still, he trails him through and then returns to shallower waters.

"I like that," says the boy.

"Good, now I want you to -"

His voice fades from her attention as she registers the sound of footsteps behind her. She looks up, surprised to see Father Timothy walking towards their group. He is dressed sombrely, as usual, with a wide brim hat and a bible in one hand. He is immaculate and serene in a way that she hopes to one day achieve. She is happy to see him and always happy to hear the good word of God.

"Good Afternoon, Father."

"Afternoon, Prudence. What brings you here?"

"I could say the same of you, Father?"

"Ah, this spot? I read here most days and study my bible. I find that being in His splendour lends itself well to my thoughts," the man chuckles, "although it looks like I happened on a second Christening? Or perhaps a first for our native friend..."

She laughs as she looks over at her son, who is being help up by Connor as he tries desperately to make some movement under the water. Connor is goading him on and the boy seems pleased, if nervous, about the action.

"No, Father, Connor was just teaching my boy how to swim."

"A fine idea, I must admit. I know little of swimming myself and it is good for the boy to not have the fear I do for deep water."

"It is the same with me."

Connor looks over, noticing the Father for the first time. He say something quietly to the boy and he nods, before both head back to the shore. Her son is skipping and laughing by the time he reaches her and looking at Connor as if the world revolved around him. For their little homestead, it certainly seems to.

"Did you see me? I swam!"

"I know, son and I am very proud."

"I was so brave and the water was so deep!"

"I told you it would be fun, didn't I?"

He nods and then looks bashful at Father Timothy, who is grinning at the boy's display of confidence.

"How have you been, Timothy?"

"Very good, Father."

"Well," Prudence says with a cross frown.

"Very well, Father."

"That's a good lad. Ah, Connor. Wonderful to see you again!"

"And yourself," says the man as he wades through the water and walks towards them. This time, Prudence does blush to see the water gleaming on his well built body as he strides confidently through the water. She glances at the Father, who clears his throat at her and she tries to distract herself from such sinful thoughts by nitpicking over her boy.

"What brings you to these shores, Father?"

"I have come to admire the splendour of God and to study his word. I see that you are teaching young Hunter to swim?"

She can see that Hunter is glad for the priest not mentioning his horrifically scared appearance. Within a few moments, the man has tossed on a shirt, covering his torso. She has to remind herself sometimes that the kind man who offered her a new life is actually a warrior.

"Yes, it is a good skill for a boy to have."

"You are quite the adept swimmer yourself."

"It was a large part of my childhood."

"From your skill in the water, I do not doubt that. I don't believe I've ever asked," says the man as he takes a seat on a nearby log and peers at him inquisitively, "what clan are you from?"

Connor looks pained for a moment, which Prudence doesn't expect. She had assumed him to be one with his past and people. But it makes sense that there would be issues, especially considering his residence in the large manor on the hill. How can you be close to your people if you do not even live with them?

"The Mohawk clan in the Frontier."

"Ah, yes. I have heard of them. Moved on, haven't they?"

"…Yes. They have gone north, to better land."

"I would have thought - and forgive me for prying - that you would have gone with them?"

"There has been much that needs to be done in this land and I have not been with my clan for many years now. This is my new home, now."

"So a nomad, like all of us. Come to better lands and never left?"

Connor grins, "Yes. I do seem to attract the same type of person to this new place."

"And we are all grateful. Although, it would be good to see your face in the church on occasion."

"I do not mean to be rude, Father, but that s not something that will happen."

"Yes, you have your own faith. If that is what you're people call it?"

Connor doesn't answer, only looks at the priest with his deep brown eyes. Prudence doesn't want to get involved but she has always been a child of God and she can't ignore that to deny his conversion would be un-christian of her. So she doesn't stop the Father's questioning, only watches.

"Tell me, Connor. Have you heard our Lord's gospel?"

"I have no wish to. I believe in the legends of my people."

"I have not seen you show the faith that we show, if I must be honest. You see my flock queuing for worship each sunday and yet I see no evidence of your beliefs."

"I do not need to sit in silence to worship the spirits and to respect my ancestors." Connor is almost aggressive in his answer but she admires the way that he stands up for himself, against such a stubborn man. Not that she doesn't respect the Father but she wishes that Connor had been uninterrupted in his lesson. "My faith is a way of life and of being with the land. I do not need a book of dead words to guide me through."

"I see… well…" says the man, perhaps sensing that he has stepped over a line, "Just know, son, that if you wish to walk in the light of our Lord and saviour, all you need to do is ask."

"I will make a note of it," says Connor, his expression serious.

A silence falls over them as Connor makes no move to break his gaze from the priest. She feels awkward and in the middle of a continuous disagreement. It was no secret that the Father wished to convert Connor, he had spoken of it many times before at the inn. As Christians, she could not refuse to acknowledge that his conversion would do good but she wants the man to be happy, regardless. If that meant believing in his clans ways, she could accept that.

"Well, I must be off," says the Father, as he rises from his log.

"Goodbye, Father." Says Connor, pointedly.

"Goodbye, Connor. Prudence. Hunter," he finishes with a grin that she can easily see is a mask for his awkwardness.

She watches him as he walks off and Hunter is silent, understanding that conversation was not flowing freely around him. She is happy that he didn't involve himself.

Feeling that some acceptance needs to be promoted, she smiles at him, "So, Connor, the Mohawk tribe was it?"

"Yes, they were the people of my mother."

"So you must have another name then?" She says, encouragingly.

"Yes…"

"You do not need to say it if you don't-"

"It is Ratohnhake:ton."

"That's quite the mouthful," she says bemusedly as he laughs, "what does it mean?"

"It means, 'his spirit lives.'"

"Oh… whose spirit is that?"

"I do not know," he says, earnestly, "my mother died before I had a chance to ask her. I once thought that it was for my father. That his spirit lived within me. But now, I am not so sure. I hope his spirit does not live with me. If anything, I believe it is the spirit of an ancestor, much further in my line than my father."

Prudence ignores his mention of his father. She's connected the dots many months ago that perhaps he did not respect his birth father. His anger was obvious for her to see. She turns to her child, who has waltzed into the water once more, his expression focused and determined as he stares down at the rocky bed. She is glad that he has left. For just a moment, she feels a pressing need rise in her. A curiosity about the man who demands nothing but gives everything to their village.

"Your name, it is beautiful. But Connor… forgive my ignorance as there is something that I have been meaning to ask you. What is it that you… do?" She feels herself stumbling over her words as he cocks an eyebrow at her question, "We see you coming and going at all times of the night. You visit the cities all the time and yet always return to us, with perhaps more anger than you left. So what is it that you travel for and what that fills you with such urgency?"

"I am…" he pauses for a moment, "an ambassador."

"Oh… for your Mohawk tribe?"

"Yes. And for other… affiliations that I have."

"Others?"

He grins and its animalistic in its slyness. She feels as if she is looking at a wolf who has clearly marked a strangler from a herd. He could pounce at any time and yet he watches her patiently and chooses his words with care and meaning. She can imagine him, dressed in feathers and war paint, watching the enemy patiently as he plans his next move. He inspires her imagination, with his otherworldly qualities of kindness and honour.

"Others," he replies noncommittally.

"Well, I want you to know," she says, "that if the Father's words ever grow too much, you can always talk to me. I will help you as best I can. With what, I do not know, but I feel that it is something that you should be able call upon if you need it… perhaps my guidance would be best for you. It is no secret that my heritage is not of a white settler. I have parents of tribal blood, as you do, and I fight with my past with every moment I am a christian."

He's staring at her and she stares back, hoping that her admiration for him can be translated through their silence. He is silent for a moment, "Thank you. Truly. I am glad to have you here, Prudence. You and your family."

"We are glad to be here."

She says, truly meaning it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~ AC3 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AN: Hope you enjoyed and, as usual, please make sure you drop me a line to let me know your thoughts. I am completely motivated by reviews.