Disclaimer: Anything you recognize, I don't own. Anything you don't is from my own imagination.

------

Lost

------

___________

ChapterSeven

___________

Walking up the clearing, Alice felt a blushing awkwardness. She had difficulty remembering when she had ever felt so unrefined or slatternly. If only I could have at least smoothed my hair or at best washed my hands! she thought in silent despair. She knew she was being childish, but all her life having impeccable appearance had been drummed into her. She cringed at the thought of how indecent she must have looked.

Turning her head up she took a good look at the people walking up to them. It was difficult to discern in the low light but they appeared to be farmers and housewives; a small number.

"Hello!" called a blonde man who looked to be in his late twenties. He walked quickly up the path and stood, smiling warmly. "Nathaniel, glad to see you!" He had a faint Scottish brogue that Alice instantly warmed to.

Looking around amiably, the man gave a bark of laughter. "From the looks of it you're thinking of starting your own colony."

Nathaniel grinned, turning to the women he gestured with a flourish. "Ladies, may I introduce James Stewart? James, these are the Misses Cora and Alice Munro. You know my father and brother."

He briefly summarized the story with bare minimal details, that his family would stay with the Delaware camp nearby and the Munro women needed a place to bunk down someplace for the time being. The Scotsman nodded agreeably.

Cora raised an elegant eyebrow, studying the young man closely. "Stewart?" she asked in a rather beguiling voice. "A rather auspicious name for a Scotsman, sir."

The Scotsman Stewart blinked owlishly at the elder Munro girl before giving another one of his loud peals of deep laughter, making Alice think of canines again. "There now, lass, I am not of those Stewarts! We took no part in the rebellions."

Chuckling, he turned from a smiling Cora to Alice and she looked down, shuffling her feet.

"The shy one, eh?" She heard him ask. "Quite all right, lass. Nathaniel, I'm assuming they'll be needing a place to stay and.. er… dresses, lady things and such?"

Alice felt her face and neck reddening with mortification, as he had obviously noticed her general lack of hygiene and her dress that was practically brown swathes of rags.

"Nathaniel, Uncas," came the lilting voice of a female from in front of her.

Instinctively Alice looked up at the woman who was now beside Mr. Stewart, wiping her hands on her worn cream colored dress. Her eyes were kind, Alice noticed with some relief.

Tucking a strand of chestnut colored hair behind her ear, she regarded them silently for a moment. "I am Annabel Stewart," she said, her voice mild and Alice caught the cadence of a London accent. "Do the ladies need a place to stay?"

Alice and Cora glanced at each other furtively, trying valiantly to mask their wonderment beneath polite smiles. What could an obviously well-bred young lady be doing on the frontier?

"James is my husband. We own a plot of land not far from here," was her way of explanation, as if knowing their thoughts.

"I am Alice Munro. This is my sister Cora. We are pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. and Mrs. Stewart," Alice said this in a rush, looking self-consciously at the other people who lingered around the Stewarts, gathering around her.

Annabel inclined her head, studying the two women carefully and smiling. "The pleasure is mine, Miss Alice. Please call me Annabel and I trust you and your sister will consent to stay with us?"

Nodding quietly Alice was glad that Cora and she were soon to be enclosed in a warm location, bathed and (hopefully) decked in clean dresses. But how peculiar that the Stewarts would take them in, relative strangers, and not even ask them why.

Annabel announced, "Gentlemen, you know where our homestead lies. The ladies look exhausted,. Tomorrow when they look presentable and have rested we can all convene at my home. Shall we say around noon?"

The men nodded and murmured their assent. Alice looked at her sister who looked overcome with gratitude.

"Thank you ever so much for your kindness, Mrs. Stewart," said Cora sincerely, seemingly forgetting Annabel's entreaty to call her by her first name. "And yourself, of course, Mr. Stewart. My sister and I are most grateful."

Alice nodded. "We shall endeavor to be of any assistance to you in our stay."

James Stewart unsuccessfully fought his laughter and Alice looked at him, confused.

"Did I say anything untoward?" she asked politely. He shook his head and shared a look with Nathaniel.

Annabel sighed in his direction. "It's called good manners, James." Nevertheless, she smiled warmly at her husband.

"Miss Alice, Miss Cora…" Annabel turned and beckoned them.

The sisters glanced at the men uneasily. They didn't want to leave them. Nathaniel's look was tender as he glanced at Cora.

"It will be alright," he said gently and Alice remembered another night not too long ago when another man had said those exact words to her, putting forth a dauntless façade in the face of a world that was collapsing around them.

Alice, distressed, looked at Uncas and Chingachgook's detached expressions and then beseechingly at Nathaniel.

"Where will you all be?" she asked tremulously. "Where can we find you?"

Nathaniel sighed, rubbing his forehead wearily. "We will be at the Delaware camp not far from here. There really aint that much room for us here. We don't know but the Stewarts and the other families have too many children. We will see you both tomorrow."

With that he embraced Cora briefly and gave Alice a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder before turning and picking up his rifle and hauling his pack, heading down the unlit path.

Alice stared dejectedly at Uncas and Chingachgook, her mouth a stern grimace. It was hard to part ways at this junction, even for a night. Uncas gave her a hint of a smile then turned with his father to follow Nathaniel to the Delaware camp.

Cora also looked troubled but with an air of geniality owing to the fact, or so Alice suspected, that she did not want their host to think the sisters were somehow disparaging their surroundings.

James joined his wife and his eyes danced with mirth as they waited for Cora and Alice.

How odd, thought Alice, but with gratification, he sees none of the bitterness of life…


A little over two hours later the two girls were soundly tucked into the bed that was once occupied by the married couple. Tthey were tightly compressed into the far wall as they also had to leave a stretch of room for Annabel. The bed was a touch more ample than Alice would have thought but with three women it would be a narrow fit. James had insisted he bunk down on blankets near the fire, waving aside their embarrassed chagrin.

The last few hours happened in a blur. Annabel had entreated her husband to fill as much water as possible into the simple wooden tub that was lined with metal. The two other visiting families had returned home for the night.

Annabel had remarked to them that after they bathed they would eat their fill of bread and cheese as she could not prepare anything at the moment. But that tomorrow would be better.

James had shouldered his rifle and disappeared outside again, stating he would return in about an hour, wanting to check on his crops for now and make sure nothing was amiss.

The water had been quite tepid and if truth be told, more nippy than they had hoped, but Cora quickly removed her garments and sank blissfully into the alleviating water, tears of relief in her eyes.

Moving quickly, Alice rinsed her sister's stringy, matted hair and massaged her scalp.

"I do apologize, ladies, as I have quite run out of soap, but tomorrow I believe we can begin to make some more." Annabel said, "It is not too very difficult."

As she examined the state of Cora's garments with a slight frown, she bade them be rid of their clothing and wear some of her own for the time being. Alice whole-heartedly agreed, whilst stammering out her gratitude.

Cora then sat by the fire, finger combing her spiraling wet hair and donning Annabel's night gown, Alice looking forward to her own bath. Annabel had leaned close to Alice's ear.

"I think it best if my husband empty the tub and fill it anew with fresh river water. Forgive me, but I think it's been overly long that your sister has bathed and with the dirt and such…"

Alice nodded quickly.

Jerked back to the present, Alice stared at the rough workings of the small cabin ceiling, feeling contentedly warm but with a vague sense of trepidation. She had never been alone in a nightgown in a room with a man who was not her father, granted Mr. Stewart had been cheerful and respectful.

The wife and husband sat at their wooden table, talking in low tones about their crops and what would grow and what they could possibly trade or sell from their little plot of land. Alice caught on some of the discussion.

"The sweet potatoes and squash should yield plentiful this summer, I should hope," murmured Annabel, darning one of her husband's torn shirts by the flickering firelight.

James drank heartily of his tankard of ale and nodded, wiping his mouth. "Aye, but my hopes are for the Indian corn and potatoes."

Alice heard Annabel sigh.

"That corn will be paltry at best. What we should truly do is grow wheat."

James chuckled, as if he found her naïve demeanor endearing. "Growing the wheat will not be that simple, my love," he replied.

"I know," said Annabel. sounding a touch cross. "But if we could clear some more of the field, perhaps a bit of the woodland?…"

"I cannot just encroach in that manner, Annabel," James stated lowly.

"Encroaching onto where? Onto whose land? The Newsom's are somewhat nearby but I highly doubt some stalks of wheat will cast a shadow onto their house, resplendent as it is in grandeur," she said the last bit with a muted degree of scorn.

Alice heard the hint of contempt in Annabel's voice and wondered if the families did not get on. She looked silently at Cora, who also appeared to be listening but her sister only shrugged a slender shoulder carelessly. This did not involve them.

Annabel continued. "If we could at least grow some wheat, why, we could trade. The wheat alone-"

James interrupted her quiet harangue. "I agree, my love, but that would mean clearing much more trees and it is already late summer. An experiment of this sort so late in the season is short-sighted, especially if the frost takes the fruits of our labor."

Annabel had finished with the shirt and folded it neatly on the table, running her fingers distractedly along the rough edges of the fabric. She stared at her husband pensively.

"I don't take your opinions lightly, Annabel. That was my promise to you. I have also thought about wheat. The southern colonies clamor for it. But I think we should stay the course for now. Early next summer I promise you I will clear some more land and we can start."

He leaned back, stroking his chin. "Wheat.." he sighed. James changed the subject. "Are the women settled in? Asleep?"

At the far end of the cabin, Alice curled deeper under the blankets.

Annabel nodded solemnly. "Yes, bathed and fed. Poor souls, they looked positively wild upon their arrival. Perhaps tomorrow we can ask the pertinent questions to Nathaniel. They certainly do not appear to be from around these parts. Or from the colonies, for that matter."

"They talk like you do, my sweet," James said with a grin.

Annabel agreed. "London accents."

Later that night Alice awoke disoriented. It took her a few seconds to realize where she was, cramped as she felt, wedged between Annabel (fast asleep) and Cora who was to the wall. She heard a muffled sort of keening sound and looked abruptly at her sister, blinking confusedly.

Cora was encased entirely in blankets, her dark head turned into the crease of her elbow facing the cabin wall. Her body shook with silent tears.

Alice felt a pang of despair and, looking quickly at their sleeping hostess, inched towards her sister in the darkness and wrapped a pale arm around her. "Shhh…" she breathed. "Do not fret, sister," she whispered. "All is well." Their eyes met. "I am with you."

Cora choked back another racking sob, her expression stark with grief. Their hands laced under the rough blankets and Alice lay her cheek on her sister's damp forehead. "What is it?" asked Alice quietly.

"Duncan," was all she said, the pooling tears streaming down her face.


Chingachgook and his sons entered the Delaware camp under the obscurity of night.

Treading light-footed and silent, they were nonetheless expected. The Mohawks had melted back into the woods before nearing the camp.

The dome-shaped wigwams dotted along the trees, two longhouses at opposite ends. Small fires were lit throughout the center of the camp in a row for the inhabitants to share. People were milling about, eyeing them inquiringly, but as their presence became known, there were calls of recognition.

The elder Mohican stopped with the younger men as they were approached by a tall man who wore the clothing that was customary to the Delaware, breech-clout and leggings. He was also draped in a shawl made of beaver skin, likely to ward off the slight chill of the dark summer night.

They all waited until they were acknowledged.

"Chingachgook, welcome," said the man in Delaware, solemn. He spoke out of principle first to the older man, in deference to his seniority. There was pause. "You were spotted from the river."

Nathaniel racked his memory a little frantically to recall the tall, somewhat heavyset man in his early 50's.

His gaze found the lined tattoos on his lower cheeks and he remembered his name, thankfully, just as the Lenape's eyes cut to him.

Nathaniel bowed his head. "Hopocan, thank you for the welcome."

The man in question nodded shortly. He looked at Uncas and arched a black eyebrow.

"You bring tides of war, then, Chingachgook? Your son has seen injuries."

Without bothering to say anything else to the young men, he called over some women, with instructions to find accommodations for Chingachgook's sons, as well as sustenance and clothing.

The women came over and talked animatedly with each other as they examined Nathaniel and prodded and poked Uncas, assessing his wounds and checking for any impairment.

One of the younger women stepped up to Uncas, striding soundlessly in her deerskin moccasins. Her eyes were bright in the firelight as she examined Uncas's ribs and arms, catching his eyes she smiled lightly and gestured the brothers to the center of the camp.

"I will see you both when the sun comes," stated Chingachgook sternly to the men as they were slowly led away.

Nathaniel looked irritated at being dismissed abruptly, and was led to a wigwam inhabited by a small family, Uncas to one of the longhouses to be treated for his injuries. For this, Chingachgook's heart was glad.

Later that evening found Hopocan and Chingachgook in a rather spacious wigwam, smoking a clay tobacco pipe and discussing the past summer.

Shucks of dried spotted corn as well as herbs hung down the sides of the wigwam, adding a pleasant fragrance to the air. The two men had known each other for many years, and Chingachgook felt comfortable speaking with him, or just reminiscing.

"That older boy of yours, " Hopocan had asked baldly. "Is he still mouthy?" To which Chingachgook nodded. "Not to me, however."

"Your youngest… she married when the snow fell deep last winter, I was told?" Chingachgook inquired this. Hopocan had nodded with a pleased expression, adding that she had recently given birth to a son.

Currently, Chingachgook was explaining the recent days, their brush with the murderous Huron on the George Road, the English women they were now saddled with, and subsequently Uncas' injuries.

Hopocan sat quietly at an interlude in their discussion of the younger boy. His puffs of smoke from his pipe were slow and languorous, his black eyes intelligent as he considered this point of the story.

"He ran like a fool after that white girl," said Chingachgook after a beat.

Hopocan cocked his head to the side, handing the pipe to his old friend. He noted an unusual but definite edge to the Mohican's voice.

Chingachgook's puffs were shorter on the pipe. "He thinks me old and feeble, I suppose, assuming I do not to notice how he stares after her like a simpleton."

Hopocan gave a momentary smile. "If she is as weak-willed as you hint, this will only be a passing infatuation. All men go through this sort of distraction in their youth. Is he much beyond twenty summers?"

"Twenty-two," grunted Chingachgook. "He should have started a family of his own by now."

The Lenape nodded his assent. "And your white son? He is at least twenty-five summers."

Chingachgook turned the pipe carefully over in his weathered hands. "My white son has found a mate in the moon girl's sister. I approve. It is a good match. She has a strong spirit that called to his."

Turning the discussion back to the unlikely younger pair, Chingachgook frowned.

"The moon-haired girl is not strong. I fear my youngest son is chasing after shadows and dust. I fear she will return to her homeland and leave a wound in my son's heart. He should turn his eye towards what is expected of him, the re-growth of our tribe and a Delaware woman. Not a Yengeese girl who knows nothing of our traditions, knows nothing of survival."

Hopocan regarded his friend with more curiosity than sympathy. They both knew a man's heart could not be governed.

"I understand, my friend," said Hopocan lightly. "Uncas should know his responsibilities. But we were both young once. Many, many moons ago." They both chuckled at this.

Hopocan continued. "At this point, his heart beats hot and fast. Young men are slaves to their senses, to fleeting things such as beauty and passion. It will wane."

Hipocan said this with certainty, but Chingachgook was silent anew, watching the tobacco smoke waft upwards and out of the opening at the top-center of the dome.

"Soon he will find all this and more, a firm foundation with a Delaware woman." The Lenape said this to reassure his friend.

Hopocan sighed and leaned back into furs and hides, closing his eyes briefly. "We must remember to be compassionate to the young."


Thank you for reading. Truly, you all mean so much to me, the messages and words of encouragement. Also, please thank Departed again, who usually goes out of her way to help me in almost every situation.

Well, I am currently working on chapter 8. I devote most nights and weekends to this story. Also, please keep in mind that I know almost nothing of farming (city girl!) so if anything sounds a little off in this story with the farm talk, forgive me. Please R&R